At times there are glimpses
at times there is remembering
While sitting in the silence
when watching my children at play
while prowling the peaks and caverns
of the sacred Adnipoche
I sometimes merge briefly
within a page of soul history
I pierce the wondrous mystery
within my mundane day
I am the ancient mayan guardian
of the child priestess
those who would harm her
have known the wrath
of the jaguar
Many times I am
the blinded warrior
enraging seething slashing
into the cancerous darkness
that seeks to eclipse the light
Each blow disemboweling tearing
into my own body
my own heart
leaving me
exhausted
defeated
and triumphant
I am a flower of the Himalayas
planted and nurtured by the holy ones
sent into the valley
to spread their seeds
of compassion and wisdom
I am the constant wanderer
on the medicine path
exploring sharing
earth mother’s subtle
healing secrets
I am the shamed grieving Jesuit
torn by mindless
blood stenched mutilation
of the culture
of the traditions
of the people
I am that red-robed
mitre-bearing manipulation
drawn into the pit of deceit
and deception
I am the weary innocent
no longer naive officer
throwing his willing body
into enemy vengeance
hoping to find rest
no longer willing
to follow
twisted and perverse mandates
of a fatherland
gone mad
By grace I am
sometimes empowered
to go within
So now I am here
the child priestess has returned
and I am the householder
and sometimes there is something more
At times there are glimpses
at times there is a remembering
at times there is something else
at times there is something more
Little coyote brother
has once more scattered the trash
it is time to sort out the mail
the heart of the raj adnipoche
calls unto me
I struggle to find my most experienced pair of hiking boots
maha dev calls to me
jaguar power comes to me
leading me to sacred kivas
the ancient dharma
rises within
Yes … at times there are glimpses
at times
there is a remembering
at times
there is more
at times
Adesh Wodan returns home
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