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Behind every collapse of trust are the roots of self-betrayal.

We betray ourselves when we break the sacred promise of our incarnation by refusing to express our blessings.

In a fear of physical life, we try to fixate our experience by clinging to ideas of what we want to exist – in stead of what is there in the moment.

How can we lose anything that has never been truly ours?

Why is is that when we have been deeply forsaken, we carry a feeling of guilt as if the crime were ours?

To move through the fear of betrayal is to unmask the inner traitor of light.

In this, a door to freedom opens – the freedom to exist beyond our former limits as a creative source of human expression.

Ochroma lagopus

  Daddy
spring,
you never
said
you
would reach 40;
drunk and real dead,
your girl pruned mortal,
knocking shock in time,
from clearing surreal.
feeling wood-like that
coffin,             Mr.  Sheen
dense,        shoulder
funeral          flame
flares             in forest
to burn                  white dwarf,

Dead
sun-
in that
bleak
hollow
follows olive twig,
branch of instant whip,
hurt leaf-lip shaking,
tear in mossy face-
your son and grace.
today 40 years, dead
drunk and gardened
in clinics, splinters
will incinerate-
clutching forsaken
flute – and flakes of ash
rises in balsa wood holes
where death is mute…
he blows songs of rage.