Lens

Lens
by Jason Motsch

I see the patterns repeating themselves,
following their own seasons within my being like
a reflection of the leaves falling into an autumn-bound lake
within the woods at the end of summer where the turtles
sense the oncoming winter as a phantom ghost.  
Then I come marching along with my backpack and my 
specimen tubes, gathering samples from the terrain,
from muddy waters to rocky soil to thriving leaves, to take
them home to be put under the microscope.
I see the organisms within moving, struggling, and I
am in awe of their strength and beauty, living alongside
all of the molecular structures, trying to steer clear of the bacteria.
But the black bugs of disease are still present, trying to further 
the trails of internal dischord.
It is only by viewing them through my various lenses in the dark
on the night of my spirit that I am able to let go of them
and let the forces of my inner cosmos deal with the vagabonds
of my existence,  flying through meadows
of soul flowers, taking nectar from each one where God's love
flows free and divine into my spirit, nurturing the body and freeing
me from old ways of living from inside out.
Birds break free from earthbound nests and soar in to the air
singing songs that light the entire spectrum of feelings with 
colorful sounds.
Happy with my work, and like any good scientist,
I now submit my findings to prestigious journals but 
in the end, the most important judge of these things
is my point of awareness,
the one that is free of concepts,
empty of descriptions,
bereft of patterns,
and devoid of attachments and desires.
It lies like a deep under ground cavern at my core that waits
to be discovered.
I will dig as far as I can.

Old and New

Old and New
by Jason Motsch


There are too many flowers to notice the weeds,
although at times weeds are beautiful.
Clothed in the finery of kings and queens,
the countryside gets a makeover every season.
The leaves are earrings decked out with God's finest jewels.
Why talk about death?
Whatever happened to transformation?
The longer I gaze into the heart of autumn 
The more my spirit spills over into the air,
mingling with the canvas of the countryside and
warming by the fireside of the sun.
Change into the wonder dazzling the peace of nights
under Christ's watch and growing into the days of Pan's desire.
Ages past they knew what we know so let's continue
to dine with our ancestors on the food of old,
the stuff of today,
the masterpiece of creation.

Forever

Forever
by Jason Motsch



The dog is barking at the mailman.
I baked some muffins today.
Kate Bush sails out of my speakers and into the room.
The cats are resting in higher depths.
The weather is wintery.
I love it.

All these things on any other day
would be mundane.
And they are mundane today too.
Some of the most mundane things
are some of the most divine though.
I find peace and wonder in my ordinary ocean
The waves lull my senses from the inside out into
a passion with the world.
I am restful on waters of common tongues 
speaking out against the slavery of tomorrow.
Today is the last and final word.
Thus it lasts for ever.