Radio Hearts

Radio Hearts

By Jason C. Motsch                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                        

Beating on the ground in a flowing rhythm,

The heart sends messenger birds from

It's fingertips into the red skies above.

Sacred songs of holy ritual expand

Into cosmic connections, distill into

Frequencies dancing from spirit radios.

Their wings flap furiously into reality,

Birdsong filling the air from my soul

to His waiting hands, ready to recieve.

My heart gladly leaves its dusty home

and beats from suggestion into exclamation,

Becoming one with my Love at last.

We soar the bandwidth eternal,

Coming in at a rate perceptible only

to our conversing ears.

I waited long.

I was rewarded.

I am free in love.

I am glad.                                

Meditation

Meditation
by Jason C. Motsch


I walked through the fields of my mind this morning.
With a handful of seeds, I scattered them as i strolled
among the wild flowers.

The sun smiled warmly on my face, yellow saucer
of interstellar mother's milk.
I'm preparing the ground for next harvest
in hopes that synaptic trails are fertilized
with nutritious abandonment.
The air currents are strong and the grasses
wave in the wind but I breath and
slowly they come to a still halt for a few seconds.
Then the gusty patterns begin anew,
but the seeds are planted for new vegetation
that will withstand the constant draft,
ushering in a new, loving caress on my cheek in the
gift of the eternal moment.

Morning Hours

Morning Hours
by Jason Motsch


The morning hours...
Waking up to gentle voices,
one next to me and another
delicately stepping out of my speakers.
Trucks and cars pass by outside.
I haven't looked at the birds yet.
Tender little things.
They are such a delight.
This is a simple poem that some would
just call thoughts on paper.
Anything can be a poem
just as anything can be art.

"Beauty lies in the eye...of another's dream"