Malachi, Jim

Shuffled

Jim Malachi

On this night the snow
like frozen moonlight
makes ghosts of the trees
and a bridal veil
of a burial shroud.

::

I am no one
I am no where
every truth I have ever known
has shredded me in the learning of it.

::

Trees don’t lie.

::

give a crow a stiff, cold, wet headwind…
and he will play with it.

::

~ meanness is really just “me-ness” ~

::

The drone of machines suddenly stops
and there is a breath…a held breath
In that moment I realize who I really am,
and that the rest is madness ~

::

Looking back, I suddenly realize
I am the missing piece I have spent my life in search of.

::

~ stand alone among the trees beneath a light rain
and allow your surroundings to gently dismantle you ~

::

Nothing disappoints like Hope!
Hope is an inflatable love-doll…with a slow leak.

::

This modern world is a ride I climb aboard each morning
out of habit and necessity;
a dilapidated contraption in some tacky amusement park
which, despite the fresh coat of paint, has seen better days.

::

~ Time is a Magic Carpet that is being pulled out from under us ~

::

Look around you, it’s all the same consciousness.
We borrow from it the way the moon borrows her
light from the sun. We are the Self looking back
at Itself from behind someone else’s eyes.

::

In order to exist fully,
you must first realize you do not actually exist at all.

::

That sound…
is it something the wind is doing to the trees?
Or are the trees doing it to the wind?
…or is it something else

::

~ Stillness overcomes you when you least expect it ~

::

we all surrender
sooner or later

::

The fog reminds us that the space between things
is not really empty.

::

Sit quietly and listen
until you are able to hear the sound of moonlight
pouring onto the earth.

::

~ to be still as stone in the howling wind ~

::

One day, humans will be remembered as the rock and roll band
that spent the night in a hotel room called Earth.

 

Selected from Jim Malachi’s blog, “malachifragments.”

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