The Real Currency Is Exchange

Can we truly give to live?  Is love selfless?  Can we see ourselves in another?  Growth is giving and receiving, it can never be an island of automation.

The American dream,

A wife and two kids,

A double garage,

In a tree lined street,

Shovelling snow clad winter palaces,

Watching snow angels fly,

To land softly,

Making  subtle impressions,

In the sands of impermanence.

The Statue of Liberty stands silently in New York harbour,

For she is a messenger of truth,

She carries both the scales of justice and the flame of liberty,

To remind all travellers of freedom illuminated by truth,

For life, liberty and happiness,

Can only be founded  

in fathers.

Why do some men believe in fighting for freedom,

But at the expense of another’s?

Why do some men believe in working for capital,

But take more than they give?

Why do some men believe in seeking their happiness,

But forget to give happiness in return?

For what you give yields natural returns,

What returns is naturally given,

For this is the real currency of exchange,

That sustains the world.

 I opened my eyes and saw your vision,

I felt your presence yet your words were hidden,

The law of attraction wove its silent thread,

A technicolour dream coat cloaking the heart instead,

A lord of the ring,

Unravelled the coat of my alms,

A silent seduction in black and white,

For yin and yang are bedfellows,

Blending one into the other,

The masculine becomes the feminine,

The feminine becomes the masculine,

For to stare into the soul and find the opposite in kind,

Is to recognise the soul mate is a sole affair,

For you lose yourself in the moment,

The time clock movement bends with fate,

Salvador Dali queries – it is never too late!

Harmony is the beacon that liberty holds high,

Truth is visible as it never conceals or asks why?

For only truth reveals and heals,

As happiness shines in the wisdom of choosing
‘to thine own self be true’,

Predictable as night follows day,

Life is the circle of unity marrying truth to love,

A bond not held in vowels, promises or prayers,

Seeing oneself in the other as inseparable,

Is a parable of love that sings of peace and joy,

For no person is a toy for personal pleasure,

But a sacred treasure unique in space and time,

Imagine if we saw this in every person all the time,

Perhaps that is how one turns water into wine

As the true elixir of the sublime.