Gerald Rhoades

every time you read this
it is a new experience
even though the words
remain the same.

His father died when he was young.   From an early age, he traveled, seeking life's meaning, lived in an ashram on the Ganges near the foothills of the Himalayas, lived in a monastic order near Dupont Circle in Washington DC.   He now lives in Los Angeles where he works as an artist and faux finisher.

poems of Gerald Rhoades

Walking on a mountain ridge the air cleansed by rain the wind through the towering pines like the rush of a mighty river flecklets of sunlight dance in the forest each step the soft crunch of leaves. Now, surrounded by clamor I write about then when words did not exist. the ocean gives no thought to the philosophy of the drop. You are made of magic dust I hide a smile of delight when I see you I cannot explain why the invisible power is known only with the heart one must rise and fall with its rhythm. I cannot explain why it is the way it is. Rest within the invisible center the room with no walls where time has no meaning wait patiently with faith and longing. The secret is reveal by Grace I can only pray within the heart of the soul - you do not need the whole ocean you only need a drop. I was given wisdom's eye but all I see is how horrible I am I must be doing something wrong. Are there other types of effort? I only know this one Look at this mess no one will read this poetry the moon does not give a damn how its described Some day, hopefully, all this will get straightened out. but now I am bitter I have banished myself and seek the way home yet am too proud in my misery to ask for help. Enter the gateway to satori, walk on through to the other land where everything is exactly the same; except you. I dreamt I walked the streets of God awake in the City of Love my inner vision clear and calm the beauty in all aglow. Above all, the eyes of those living there reflecting back the glory in my soul; the realization we both knew, beyond words, we are separate, yet One. I am the dying breath, my Lord, the living one, each breath, a lifetime, thus, I pray my deepest prayer: I loose all taste, all claim, completely forswear, all things except the Name. Predestination or freewill can be argued forever. God's will or your will? Which is it? Neither? Both? There are those who will elaborate for hours until all are numb with boredom. There are others who will say, these are just ideas. A few will admit that they do not know. I will tell you all I know: the Master revealed the one true Name and told me to put my attention there. Life has continued to open like a flower with ten thousand petals. every time you read this it is a new experience even though the words remain the same.

Copyright © Gerald Rhoades

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