life: acoustic & amplified

poetry, quotes & thoughts about life

soul views

Your assumptions are your windows on the world. Scrub them off every once in a while, or the light won’t come in.

~ Isaac Asimov

It must be

we are waiting

for the perfect moment.

It must be

under all

the struggle

we want to go on.

It must be,

that deep down

we are creatures

getting ready

for when

we are needed.

It must be that waiting

for the listening ear

or the appreciative word,

for the right

woman or the right man

or the right moment

just to ourselves,

we are getting ready

just to be ready

and nothing else.

Like this moment

just before

the guests arrive


by the window

in the kitchen

sensing a deep

down symmetry

in every blessed thing.

The way

that everything


to us

is preparing

to meet us too.

Just on the other

side of the door


is about to knock

and our life

is just

about to change

and finally

after all these

years rehearsing,


the curtain,

we might

just be


to go on.

From ‘Waiting to Go On’: in ‘River Flow:

New and Selected Poems’

© David Whyte and Many Rivers Press

I know this lifetime is only a wooden structure
— struts and beams of longing and achieving.
I know beyond samsara and economics
there are colours I have never seen
that would send me into euphoria.

And over there, time is something we laugh at.
Like when my son said,
Remember when I thought if I

swallowed watermelon seeds they’d grow in my stomach?

And we laugh.

Ya, time, it never existed to begin with.

I know I’m living on multiple plains,

as a violet light ray, as a mechanic in Tibet,

and a stellar amoeba cleaning doubt from the atmosphere.

I am the Supreme God generating the original and eternal space.

I know that before there was The Word there was (and always will be) Space.
It is the canvas of reality and Light is the ink of our story.

I understand how Venus weaves Love into a generous geometry.
I worship her, so I know.

I get it.

But I’m holding on to here —
to music, and linen, and the white berries that grow by the lake.
I love how gravity holds me when I dance.
And when I decide to burn down this house and all the agreements in it,
I’m going to take rhythm, and the fruit seeds,
and the colour of your eyes with me everywhere I go.


I Know the Colour of Your Eyes by Danielle LaPorte


A long night I spent

thinking that reality was the story

of the human species

the vanquished search for the vanquished

Sounds come by, ruffling my soul

I sense space’s elasticity,

go on reading the books she wrote on the

wars she’s seen

Why do seasons who regularly follow

their appointed time, deny their kind of energy

to us?

why is winter followed by a few

more days of winter?

We came to transmit the shimmering

from which we came; to name it

we deal with a permanent voyage,

the becoming of that which itself had



from ‘Surge’ by Etel Adnan

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