Karls writings and reflections
The Dreamer and the dream.
In the beginning there was energy, at some point this energy became manifest.
Let us imagine spirit is collective energy and the soul individual energy, that the outpouring of spirit is physical manifestation.
Let us imagine spirit itself is embodied within the process of evolution, therefore with,
and through the evolution of consciousness, spirit can begin to perceive itself through the eyes of the soul.
In the same way the artist comes to an understanding of his or herself through the process of their own creativity. In truth there is no separation between the artist and their work, as there is no separation between the original energy and its manifest forms. The two are one and the same.
A raindrop may fall into a stream, but the raindrop is not the stream, nor the stream the raindrop. In reality they are both part of the same process. We are not separate from the earth, nor the earth separate from us.
We are now on the edge of a shift in consciousness through which we will grow to be at one with all that is.
We are the dreamer and the dream.
Speak to me of magic.
Speak to me of hidden worlds
secret places, secret things
Speak to me of time and motion
speak to me of magic
Speak to me of a shamans wisdom
speak to me of the ritual dance
Speak to me of birth and rebirth
speak to me of magic
In the shadow of the maker.
If I could take your hand again
to walk another path
where journey's would open up
and we would talk and laugh
to see the marvel in a child's eye
or touch a blade of grass
as if some unawakened dream
beyond our souls past
Someday the maker will remove
remove the scars of time
our consciousness will be revealed
our perception redefined
and we will see the world anew
through the maker's eyes
The Lament of Mary Magdalene.
Your laughter hides the sadness deep within your eyes
eyes that speak of torment and pain
eyes that hold the thunder still within the clouds
then they burst with final rain
I stand and gaze in silence for a while
as you kneel before some shadow on the wall
I hear flames flicker gently now
as the dove begins to fall
Who is the man who brings us bread and wine
his body and his blood to share
who is this man who leads us to where all darkness ends
who once was but now is not there
Your laughter hides the sadness deep within your eyes
eyes that speak of torment and pain
eyes that hold the thunder still within the clouds
then they burst with final rain
The Dance
I remember the look,
The glance, the first embrace,
Twinkle of an eye.
A moment of grace,
The movement of a dancer.
The eye that leads in, beckons my emotions,
As the dance,
As the dance begins.
Such a sweet day to remember,
When I take you in my arms.
Such a sweet day to get together,
To find your love and all its charms.
Sometimes like a ghost who calls me by my name,
Sometimes the shadow that won’t go away,
Sometimes an echo a knock upon the door.
If there is a time to return
You will return to me once more.
Such a sweet day to remember,
When I take you in my arms.
Such a sweet day to get together,
To find your love and all its charms.
When mystics speak of bliss,
I guess they speak of this.
The breath that is falling soft upon my skin,
The touch that is waiting as the dance begins.
Lights A Candle.
The secret self,
Calls within my darkness.
The secret self
Knocks upon my door.
Whispers softly,
Lights a candle,
Illuminates my inner world
Once more.
Beloveded.
To see that which is as yet unseen
To touch that which is as yet unknown
To enter the gateway from which life evolves
To embrace the beloveded
To share the seed.
And your body is an alter
And I come to make my gift
The incense burns slowly
Light plays gently
Upon the moisture of your skin.
Child Of Spirit.
A friend came to me, he said,
‘Karl, you are a Bahai, you speak the same language, follow the same path.’
And another, came to me and said,
‘You are a Christian.’
And others:
‘A Buddhist, A Hindu, A Muslim and a Jew.’
So I called them together and replied,
‘I do not need to wear a blue coat today, a black coat tomorrow. I am already a child of Spirit.
I have no need to become.’
Seeds of our dreams .
I will be your solace
And I will be your joy
I will be your comfort
When darkness falls.
I will be the sunlight
And the mountain stream
The bird that flies carrying
The seeds of our dreams.
I will be your lover
And I will open the door
Where time and timelessness
Meet again once more.
And we will see the universe
In the twinkling of an eye
In the darkness of the night
Before our bodies entwine
To find the formless within
The form
Into the mystery
Let our love be reborn.
The Gardener and the Jazz Man.
Let us keep dreaming of peace
And natural abundance
Of hope and care
Of prayer and forgiveness
One day when enough of us
Share this dream
It will manifest.
Let us walk upon The earth
together
The garden which is given
Let us plant a seed
In the heart of one
That the one may become
The many.
For my own path
Has lead me from Knowledge
to mystery
From form to improvisation
Where consciousness is the liquid
And we are the vessel.
The Story Teller.
I am the story teller,
Where myth and reality become
I am the vision maker
The drummer and the drum
I am the mantra rhythm
The one who is Within the many
The joy that is to come.
Rebirth.
Have you not emerged
As an awakened soul now.
Will you not do so again
Is it so difficult to see
The seed becomes the tree
And yes,
The tree returns to the seed.
Unread.
When Beauty Fades
I alone will see
Only the love in your eyes, For me
And In the touch and the breath
That waits
We will leave behind the tired Lines of age.
Beckoning, Returning once again, Like a book open
And yet unread.
Heaven's Gate.
In love, the anticipation
Is more than the touch.
The longing, more than the embrace.
The eyes and the lips
More even than the sweetness
Of your lovers taste.
The beauty within longing
That leads to Heaven?s Gate.
Moment Of Bliss.
In your love
Between your thighs,
Essence of now
Moment of bliss.
You wait, you call
Roll over,
Tie the bond that
lies between -
makes one.
Letting go, we
tumble and search,
To return to that
Moment of madness,
Moment of bliss.
Breathe.
Let us
Not seek to impress
But rather Move and live simply
Breathing slowly
Raising neither question
Nor answer
Touching the joy
That surrounds us
And brought us
To this place.
The Dreamer.
I am just a dreamer
A singer of songs
The poetry of my ancestors
Sits upon my tongue.
Open Hand.
Let this be the seed
For the blossom on the tree.