Meaning of Desire

Desire may have the sheen, the shape,
The color of genuine pearls.
Believe me, it is made of glass beads!
Our desires are luminous lies,

Hiding the truth about the fear we have
That we might be the last remnants
Of what was once a blessed Whole:
A circle whisked away by unknown forces!

To desire is to accept Limitation.
It is to admit that we are incomplete.
Each admission reaffirms the
“False” truth that we are powerless.
****

Composers

Beethoven, a cathedral.
Mozart, a minuet.
Rachmaninov, a thunderbolt.
Chopin....a heart.
****

Ley cosmica

La vida es siempre joven.
Nunca cesa de fluir.
Es eterna.

Esa eternidad
se expresa
a través de nosotros.

No hay
DESTRUCCION
Solo
RENOVACION.
****

El paradigma del desapego

(Soneto)

Ya no es amor, tan solo inclinación.
No muy severa, nada profundo.
El sueño terminó. La honda pasión
que ayer embellecía mi mundo,

huyo por fin como fugaz ficcion,
dejando en cambio el semental fecundo
de un nuevo paradigma de razón
que nos predice un nuevo mundo.

Un mundo nuevo en donde el ansia
del yo con su usual avidez
pierde su indecorosa relevancia,

cediendo el paso a lo que ahora es
la gran realización de que el Señor,
y no nosotros, es el único Actor.
****

Lo absurdo de la cvida

A veces los opuestos producen
resultados idénticos.
¿No conduce el amor al odio
y viceversa?
¿No es la angustia alegría que vibra
en una escala menor?
¿No esconden la guerra y la paz
un afán de unidad?
¿No es el principio fundamental
de la medicina homeopática
que un agente viral en proporción
microscópica sana
la enfermedad producida
por el mismo virus?
¿No precede a la luz del alba
la más profunda oscuridad?
¿Puede el placer sexual ser
ansia espiritual sin salida?
¿No produjo la revolución
humanista del Cristianismo
persecuciones fratricidas?
¿No empuñó Mahoma la espada
para convertir a los infieles?
¿No enseñan las grandes religiones
que el sufrimiento y el martirio
conducen a la purificación?
Después de analizar estos detalles,
¿no es absurdo todo esto?
****

lejos

lejos de los espejos, de los espejos
y sus reflejos....

de los trinos de pájaros - del sol ardiente,
la brisa silente....

de limones y fresas y de las olas esas,
olas tranquilas,

de amor humedecidas - olas gigantes
orladas de diamantes....

lejos de peces de colores
que del mar son las flores....

lejos de valles, de colinas sensuales,
de lirios tropicales....

lejos de los cálidos y dulces besos
que da el aura amena

a la blanca y frágil azucena....
lejos....pero.... muy lejos....
****

El regreso

No se retorna con algarabia....sino en silencio.
Cual fue el fruto final? Solo....experiencia.

La guerra se combatio en el extranjero.
Alli “ganamos y perdimos”...fuimos heridos.

Al “ganar y perder” tambien a otros herimos.
A veces hallamos la paz, a veces la discordia.

Amamos, gozamos y reimos.....tambien lloramos.
Que nos llevo al exilio? La aventura, la riqueza?

El renombre, la gloria? El estruendo del triunfo?
El poder de las ensenanzas de Maquiavelo?

El secreto del Cristo? El saber del cientifico?
El inescrutable psiquismo del yogi hindu?

El aun mas inescrutable amor de pareja?
Fuimos a conocernos a nosotros mismos?

Fuimos acaso a buscar la libertad?
La libertad donde el deseo no existe?

No se retorna con algarabia
....sino en silencio.
****

La imaginacion

(Soneto)

Por la imaginacion dejate deslumbrar.
Cambia el pasado que ya no existe.
Las horas idas de belleza reviste.
Que perezca el ciclon dentro del mar.

Que se alce hasta el sol nuestro cantar.
Olvidemos las lagrimas, todo lo triste.
Rechacemos aquello que de luto viste.
Invoquemos el noble arte de amar.

Todo es posible para los creadores!
Que la armonia sea nuestro cincel
para labrar en marmol esplendores.

Niega las penas que abruman en tropel.
Si alguna vez te vence la obsesion,
domala con humor y precision.
****

Hay bellezas

Hay bellezas que no dicen nada.
Son munecas sin expresion.
Mascaras de piedra cinceladas
por un rudo buril sin corazon.

Hay otras, quizas no tan hermosas,
que reflejan profundas emociones,
simpaticas promesas amorosas,
tiernos y amantes corazones....
****

La ilusion

La ilusion simula ser
lo que no es.
No existe salvo
en apariencia.

Correr tras la ilusion
es ir tras una sombra.
Vivir en un vacio
sin resonancia.

Es buscar a Dios
en la carne.
Incendiar
una estrella.

Es lanzarse tras
la dicha
para encontrar
la desdicha.

La ilusion
convertida
en mujer
puede ser bella.

Puede cantar,
reir - bailar -
llegar
a amar.

Pero al final
todo
es
fugacidad.
****

La sonrisa de Isis

(Para I.C.)

La sonrisa de La Gioconda
es la esencia
el alma
de todas las sonrisas.

La sonrisa de Isis
destila miel.
Es pura
delicada.

Comunica
dulzura
suavidad
comprension.

Bella sonrisa
senal
implicita
de ternura.

No devela secretos.
No sugiere misterio.
Es luz diafana
espontanea.

Luz que revela
un alma de mujer
que ama la vida
y acepta su verdad.
****

Is God Really Dead?

God is ‘dead’ whenever He is ‘absent.’
He’s ‘absent’ in the Past already gone,
In the ‘non-existent’ Future and within
The ‘perishable' instant of the Present.

Almost always, with our minds, we dwell
In one of these vacuums of Time.
For all intents and purposes we spend
Our lives ignoring Him.
****

The Drunkard's God

`The drunkard at the bar was saying:
I find it very hard to agree
With God if it's true that it is
His will - not ours - what actually
Governs us. I am not surprised
At human discontent - from A
To Z I disagree with Him.
When we want something and get it,
Again and again He turns our joy
Into distress or even worse,
We never get the wish at all.
We fall in love with hopes of
Reciprocity dreaming dreams
Which promptly disappear.
If we realize our hopes, watch out!
Because that heavenly feeling
Might be the road to hell!
This cruel game goes on and on,
With wealth acquired, power achieved,
Pleasures enjoyed, the list is long!
How can we speak of God’s love
When we hardly ever get it? -
Nursing his drink the sad drunkard
Remained silent. At last, I said:
I also disagree with such
A God. He’d deserve my anger.
Why don’t you fight Him? You could
Defeat Him by ignoring Desire!
****

We Are All Pawns

With our mind and senses we are
Aware of the phenomenal world
Of time, space and causation.

Because of our mind and senses
We fall into the “illusion”
Of name and form, cause and effect.

It's then that we become Time's captives.
In Time we “exist” and that fact alone
Is our "only" certainty.

It is a riddle that could be solved
By understanding Time’s mechanism.
Thought, Time’s alter-ego, insists

On ‘”dividing” the Undivided
Into names and forms in order
To “ name” the Unnameable, give “form”

To the Formless and “reduce”
Infinity into small parts.
All in an attempt to “cancel”

The terror of the Unknown. It can't be done!
Instead we fall into the trap of Name and Form,
Creating the Illusion of Separation from the Whole!
****

Like a Shooting Star

It was all true! The words of love,
The radiant youth, the joy of pleasure,
The happy cheer.
But brief...like a shooting star.

It was all true! The happy marriage,
The loving wife,
The children’s mirth.
But brief...like a shooting star.

It was all true! Flattering promises,
Hopeful ambition, some goals achieved,
A lifetime lived.
But brief...like a shooting star.

It was all true! Death of illusion,
The death of hope, the death of love,
The death of death.
But brief...like a shooting star.
****

In the Flicker of an Eye

In The Flicker Of An Eye
I fell in love with
Each one of them.
We frolicked, lost hope.
Yes....
Some of them even
Died
Before their
Time....
All this for more than sixty
Years....
And when that atom of Time
Expired....
I felt that not even one of
Them
Nor I
Had ‘really’, I mean, ‘really’
Ever
Existed....
It was Life, never-ending
Life,
Passing by like a flash
Through
Us....
****

Words!

So many things I could tell her!
So many things!
But I shall never say them!

Because the moment I utter them,
They will be lost forever.
Words will destroy them!
****

About Love

I asked the old poet about the meaning of human love.
He had written beautiful poems about it.
He had loved and romanced many women.
His experience was vast - he certainly could tell me.

But he laughed and said that love is like God.
No one can understand either of them!
We affirm that both exist - then we're forced to deny them!
Everyone talks about God and human love!

Ask a psychologist and he will tell you
“How” love is born and “how” it dies.
A mystic will connect it with the sacredness
Of divine manifestation.

A poet confuses it with his alter-ego.
An average man will tell you it’s all sex.
Some women will say, "No love without equality!"
I insisted on knowing the poet’s personal view.

He lighted up a cigar and took his time. Then, he said:
“Love is like Life! One thing is to 'know' that we are
Alive and another to 'feel' that we are living.
When we 'don’t' love we still 'know' that we exist.

"But when we do love we 'know' we're alive and 'also' feel it!
There’s a difference between knowing and feeling.
The first comes from the intellect, the second from the heart.
To love 'confirms' our existence! Thru love we can say 'I Am!'"
****

Empty Illusions? Errant dreams?

Reality only an “appearance” on the screen
Of human consciousness?
Our world just a fanciful “mist”?
Our pleasures, our joys, our triumphs:
Empty illusions?
Errant dreams?

That we miss what seemed to be but never was?
Yet it was something "real" to us,
Moments so unforgettable,
That we tried to eternalize them:
Empty illusions?
Errant dreams?

Our hopes, achievements, loves and
Triumphs which we so much enjoyed and
Whose glory we feel with deep delight
When they return to our memory:
Empty illusions?
Errant dreams?

I don’t think we can doubt life’s events.
Although there "is" a mystery!
A mystery unresolved from the beginning,
And probably forever unresolved.
What is clear is that all is evanescent:
Joy and Sorrow! - Love! - Living!
****