Posts Tagged ‘grace’

The Land of Yum

(©by Eric Grace 1-26-2012)


If and when the spirit comes to you

And you’ll find this comes to pass,

Where you gaze upon the moon above

Or upon a most beautiful lass,

Give yourself the subtle pleasure

To infinitely pursue

The gift that lies within this mortal flesh

Thy sacred Hand, Thy sacred Muse.


That golden basket that opens up

To share its gifts of Bounty,

That there within lies a precious form

Birthed from struggles,

Newly found and freely shared

into a land of plenty.


If you but find the way to walk

into this quiet pasture,

It will lead you by the hand

Into the heartland of your one and only

tried and true Heart Master.


Then forgive yourself of all you’ve lost

And gain yourself a new composure

That gives the rain its style and spin

While leaves the ground all

the wiser.


So whistle a sweet tarry or tune

And wiggle that silly temple

Find yourself refreshed and renewed amongst good friends

And your toil will last no longer.


Grieve the sacred heart

Your tears

And the mists of fog will rise above

Giving Heaven all the fears

which have grown from secrets

Stolen from the mud.


When you’ve cried your last wail

And the circles become complete

Dance a celebration song

And set sail to the new world

a living loving tenderness,

numerous in fleet.


And as you walk upon the shore

Tender warm sand at your feet

Touch the sacred earth, this land

Give a simple song or chant

Listen to your heart beat.


Praise the Golden Hand.

Thus Grace has given to you this Day

And all those still yet to come

You will live into this my love,

Onward! Into the Land of Yum.


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Still Alone


alone at night

with sex having lost

its fright

and its rush

over me to wage war

in my loins

or push my buttons of passion

into self-pleasuring

or robust wanderings.


The emptiness revealed

consumes a quiet light

that delegates

a new dawn

to my doorstep,

as I am becoming familiar

with a man

my father did not know

and never will,

except in the eyes

of my son

if he ever dares to take

that flight out of the cold country

where I used to sleep.


I do not know

this road

that weeps its way

to new vistas

of plenty,

But it has a liberating leash

around my neck

and I’m happy

to be its pet

until freed

into the wild

of my true Heartland

of Sacred Desire.


Eric Grace


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The Big A

I am utterly alone.

what once used

to scare me

like a proposed

straight jacket

became something

I craved for

like a great friend

or perfect lover.

Now it’s simply the state of affairs

in my country

of Being.

Yes, people come and go

in this world of A,

just like tourists,

true locals, and indigenous of any place,

but I feel

this profound inclination

that no one can

fill the place

where Being sits

at my table now.

no one ever could,

although I tried to seat them there

the seats just kept busting

and the table grew.

Now I wonder

who really likes

the food that is served


I’m not in control of it anymore,

I used to think

I was the chef.

You can’t tell me

that there is more

to life than this,

something like those

cracker stale promises

of true partnership

or even God

giving It’s most

delicious dish,

No… I know now

in the aftermath

of countless deaths

that Aloneness is

the only true friend to keep.

that I can keep.

And so I go into the night

heeding the call

of the Emptiness

that lives in the unique forms that

occupy my mind’s eye

and my hearts open or closed hand.

I’m saying Grace

with the Big A.

Eric Grace


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fresh tears

are welcomed by me

as they quench

my thirsty heart

it sheds

layers of skin

and I breathe

more freely

in this world.

My head acts

as a metal box

at times,

craving to be released

from its confines

and ushered into

the wisdom

of my body.

And somedays

its steely walls


words and voices

that make my ears



sometimes touch

my brow

reminding me

that the angels,

my brethren,

are not that far

off from here.

And that they

await my requests

as friends, helpers,

and guides.


seems to await me

every time

I pick-up the conversation

after having left it

due to some apparent

memory loss

of Its existence,

to which It

lovingly and warmly


and I am grateful.

Simple defines

my moments,

with some fear

of moneys’ chains

around my ankles.

Solitude is my friend now.

And I happily hold

my son


in and with my heart.

Being in love

comes and goes

just like the Spring

but it always is a season

with its rightful place

in each year

in my life,

and each day.

What I can give you now

is my life,

in its barren


and the grace

that quickly

walks through it

as myself.

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The Delicate Dance of Perfection

Jellyfish presence

spirit hands putting up

safe wallpaper


only the goodwill in

while swaying

in a sea of God

Sea anemone swirl

vulnerable twirl

beginning of a new sexual day

heart flow valve on

letting the sun currents

and vibrations

give themselves

into and through me

such yummy vibrations


from this Heart fire

Surprising Sacred delights

Luminous golden angelic presence


the sacred O


giving voice to the Angel world

into now

Channeling it into

this realm,

I give it space to be.

My body becomes

the vehicle

of the expression

of wonder

and the sacred stuff

we are all made of.

so much is here

not to be taken

for granted.

So much palpable

presence of God

that’s leaking into

my experience

and perhaps

all of ours

Now is the time

to give Grace

its rightful place

in our lives.

The purple sun


my creator

the mother

and the father

as one

It gives me It’s blessing

and undulates

waves of Grace.

It is a good beginning

for this day.

Eric Grace


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No more rivals for my moments

I used to judge

how much I needed,

time,  space,  love

care, or confessions.

Now I relish in each

feeling myself

as a cat naps

so in it.

Or as a baby

recieves attention

lapping it up

happily so.

My moments are

just that, mine.

It is my life

and I choose

how these days

are filled.

The barring voices

recede into the

backgrounds of

lazy pasts and

critical daylight hours.

I embrace this,

my nurturing

of what is sacred

and dear to me.

It is where I

find the home

of my soul.

And where I find

the spring that feeds

the rest of my life.

giving it meaning

and richness,

and spoiling my heart

with goodness

never hurt anyone

that I know of.

Eric Grace

June 6th  2010

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A few days ago I was feeling some grief around the changes in my life with my living situation, my family, my wife, and a poem sprung forth. Reading it tonight with a group of friends from the Waking Down group I attend nudged me to post it as it still seemed valuable as a poem… and pleasurable to read. So here it goes:

It’s simple now

to tell how caught up

I’ve been

in the delusions of Grandeur

Han Solo Style.

So much so

that I’ve imprisoned myself

in the image I fashioned

to keep.

My loved ones see me now


waiting for them to leave

the room, of our hearts

contentedness and familiarity.

My arrogance has been squashed

like a grape.

Maybe sweet wine

can come from

the comforts of a fresh life.

Maybe not.

I’ve wrestled my demons

and not always won

and the costs of those battles

show on the scars of my wedding ring

and my son’s face.

Reckless I’ve been to the face of love

in my need for power

beauty and sex.

Cold Turkeys they seem

now except for Beauty’s

soft touch beckening me

home to the gentle me

I dreamed years ago that I

could breathe.

In the springtime now

I grieve.

Goodbye’s and unfamiliar terrain

glisten on my heartbeats

waiting for deaf ears

to take hold of new sounds.

I’ve forgotten how lonely it can be

living alone

when the island life is no longer

a long sought after vacation

but the hard cold truth of my

chosen existence.

Warm comforts

will definitely

come in now and again

as I wean and wear off the glaze

of this years trauma’s

and the softest kisses of Her.


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