We are specks of sky,

a silent choir of pounding hearts.

We are an eyelid

the size of a galaxy,

opening like a rising sun.

If you look out of it

you are absorbed in

I am we are—

whirling in the curvature

of a universe cathedral.

Sound is unity.

Long waves lack horizons,

their roadmaps

penned from the Creator’s heart,



do you hear the subtle, undulating seams

through which you can pass?



and there…

Behind the overgrown weeds

the song leads to

I am we are.

It may seem unlikely

that what is small

and commonly ignored

is powerful,





True power waits in the whisper.

Beneath the ground state.

It is rested.

It does not flex,



or grab,

for it is not of muscle.

Or bone.

Or mind.

Or even humanness.

Remember that.

Power is not

what you have

been taught.

Power is

the internal gaze

that discerns

I am we are,

and then dresses our every deed

in that finery

and nothing more.

In the same way that white light

is nothing more than

all colors.

We are bodies of air.

Deeper, we are not bodies at all.

We are the

Sovereign Integral…

That which is




at one time.

One place.

One and equal.

No dominance.


We are invisible numbers

more than gathered letters,

atop the Periodic Table.


more than mass.


more than skin.

We are a bucket brigade

to the fires of ego and separation.

Our “water” is

I am we are.

We arm-wrestle the limbless soul.

We point our fingers at the mirror

that dares to lecture.

We stare into ourselves

and test:

“Am I?”

“Are we?”


Beautiful clarity,

the sated view

is often heard first

and followed least.

We grow in unseen places.

Come alive in the music

of quiet spaces

porous with pauses

and the rounded sound of soaring feathers.

The eyelid opens.

Canopied hues of blue, green, brown, and gray

come alive,

endless in their bidding to discover

I am we are.

It is this and nothing more,

in the same way that white light

is nothing more than

all colors.