It approaches

with sunset

into dawn,


the world turning

to glance at the mess

we have made

over sands and waters,

mountains of desolation

in minds wondering,

“How did we get here

and how do we get out?”


Confounding nature

made of sure-tell signs

that being

is just as glorious

as building a bridge

to the next skyscraper.


When will the sky fall?


Or will it only cry,

punctured by structures

not even the human soul

can dance through?


August 10, 2014

A Level Of Commitment – The Value Of Kindness

So incredibly true and important…

Children Of Light


Image: Harris Rosen with young girl in Tangelo Park.

The purpose of our human life is to help others as best we can.  Research indicates that those who consistently help other people experience less stress, enjoy higher levels of mental health, feel more connected to your spirit, feel more grateful for what you have and less invested in the ‘rat race’ that causes stress for so many of us. Religion begins with an obliging nature. Happiness begins from the moment we do something for others. I cannot see why on earth we are born if not to help others. Okay, there are times when we can’t always do our best, but when we do, it is like a light going on.

I remember a sweet story from Sathya Sai Baba that dealt with this very topic. The story goes like this: A married couple asked him what was the most…

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I remember

the first time I knew

I had a voice.


The high school cafeteria,

the salty pizza–the salted pretzels

hanging in the air

as my story concludes,

“And I laid there

until the police showed up,”

To my house? My body


by laughter I concocted


how can this be?


I wash down the salt

with some OJ and try to remember

the last time I told a story

and heard it–

like the cop over my head

cracked open spilling blood

onto the basement floor.


Now it’s my friends

at this round table laughing

their way to my insides,

to the heart that thought

not even a phone call

to the local hospital could be


to be heard from across town,

across the street,

across the table


I meet eyes

filled with nature’s shadows

giving me a look of acceptance

into how these words

can be mine,


by sixteen year old girls

wondering what to have

for lunch the next day.


October 18, 2014

Without A Self

Where would we be

if we were one

without a self?

Perhaps our kitchens

would be less dated;

our calendars would be

slashed with checks

and thorough lines.

The women in line

at the deli counter

would struggle for some cash

and reverence,

pay up on gas and tobacco.

The little boy on 6th street

would not waver

from the line he drew

in the sand at his waterfront

beach house, asking why it is

the water must turn over

and over–

and, like a switch,

we turn to the next page.