On Quarks and Quirks

“There are two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.” – Albert Einstein

When stardust, quarks, and mystery combine
to make a human, nothing can compare
to possibilities. Some say beware
of ultimate betrayal to confine
the breath of life where tangled roots entwine
with evolution. I can only stare
in utter wonder, blinded by the glare
of dazzling supernatural design.

For wedged between the elemental ash
and sentient entity, surprises lurk
in hidden crevices of every hue
across the spectral plane, and in a flash
all heaven is exposed. It’s but a quirk
the miracle of promise can renew.

2022 Mary Boren
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Pivot Point

In evolutionary terms,
a quantum leap is overdue
as callow human nature squirms
from murky embryonic stew.

We exited the primal cave
with harnessed energy enough
for all, then willingly grew slave
to needless manufactured stuff.

Like toddlers with flamboyant blocks
we fashion castles in the air,
then fortify our walls with locks
and selfishly refuse to share.

While streamers from our satellite
project an ostentatious glow,
unlike the fabled phoenix flight,
velocity is all for show.

Unless we rise victorious
as one, the looming cosmic crash
will leave behind no more of us—
an evanescent puff of ash.

2022 Mary Boren
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Up There

“If we look at the path, we do not see the sky.” – Native American Proverb

I learned to walk by trusting Mom and Dad
to hold me up, my hands attached to theirs
on either side, my fledgling vision clad
with confidence until I met the stairs.

Then common sense infringed upon the scene
as blunders, bumps, and bruises set me back,
convincing me that hazards lay between
each halting step, determined to attack.

But drudgery of living on alert
by counting obstacles along the path
in pebbles, roots, or topsy-turvy dirt
will sacrifice the magic to the math.

I’d rather fall a million miles than miss
the marvel of unmitigated bliss.

2022 Mary Boren
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Illusion of Separation

“The time that my journey takes is long and the way of it long.” – Rabindranath Tagore (Gitanjali, #12)

I looked through squinted eyes,
and begged to see The Mystery unveiled;
instead, without a word, you lifted me
with loving arms to set me in your lap
behind the wheel.

A primal burst of light
accompanied our launch through time and space,
and in my rattled, addled sense of self
I dreamed that I was traveling alone
without a map.

This lifetime lost among
inhabitants of unfamiliar worlds
obscured the memory of whence I sprang
but couldn’t kill my longing to return
before I die…

’til guided by a star
protruding from the edge of clarity,
I caught an echo of the lullabye
you sing throughout eternity to call
your children home.

2022 Mary Boren
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Aqueducts

“Are you a cul-de-sac or a channel?” – Nancy Woods

A home is offered on a cul-de-sac
located at the bottom of a hill.
The carpet, furniture, and bric-a-brac
would be at risk in heavy rainfall; still,
it seems a pleasant place to live.  I’m told
the problem’s not the overwhelming type,
since rising water’s easily controlled
by channeling. The groundwork’s laid, each pipe
is needed in its place as, drop by drop,
the depths are filled to bring one thirsty plant
a crucial chance to flourish.  Dammed up top,
however, they won’t hold a trickle.  (Can’t.)

Imagine a supreme communal force
with every channel flowing from its source.

2002 Mary Boren
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Fickle Flight Plan

Well, if I ruled the world, all the fish in the sea
would have noses and fingers and toes
and each air-sniffing human that’s wishing to be
unencumbered by nostrils and clothes
could swim free.

And if I ran the planet, the stars in the sky
would be spelling out secrets in verse
as the passage through parallel bars on the fly
would empower the people of Earth
flitting by.

But with me in control at the helm, I suspect
unintended results could occur,
so let’s leave all the plans for the realm in effect
in the hands of The Maker. With her,
dots connect.

2022 Mary Boren
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Cosmic Connection

“Not the ones speaking the same language, but the ones sharing the same feeling, understand each other.” -Rumi

The music doesn’t echo in a void.
It travels on a transcendental plane
that cannot be distorted or destroyed
and enters through a universal vein.

The magic doesn’t happen on the stage
when eyes alone are focusing on smoke
and mirrors, tricks impossible to gauge
when realism hides behind a cloak.

For only in the space between the realms
that camouflage the planets on their course
can kindred spirits forge a bond that whelms
our senses with connection to the source.

Communion recognized throughout the spheres
will ring when stillness penetrates our ears.

2022 Mary Boren
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Circular Curriculum

We only have, on average, the span
of eighty-seven years to mount a quest
for wisdom steeped in life. The lesson plan
is stacked against the odds we’ll pass the test.

For some, the obstacles occur at birth
before the child has drawn a second gasp
and never cease, while others’ inner worth
is nurtured from the gate to final grasp.

But if distracted by the siren call
of fame and fortune, don’t expect to reach
the summit of serenity. The fall
of hubris supersedes us in the breach.

And any course curtailed before it’s done
will be extended for another run.

2021 Mary Boren
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To the Unknown Poets Before Us

“I send my soul through time and space to greet you. You will understand.” -James Elroy Flecker (To a Poet a Thousand Years Hence)

Not driven by the world’s applause
your words were neither praised nor spurned.
You spoke or wrote them down because
the fire within you burned.

From chants to overcome the fears
encroaching on a native camp
to chronicles of current years
your words have held a lamp.

To each of you who heard the call
of feelings that demand release
through ink or etched into a wall,
the echoes never cease.

So whether gathered in renowned
Akashik Records or encased
in ancient caverns underground,
no words have gone to waste.

Millennia may come and go
before or since another surge
renews the link, but we who know
will let our spirits merge.

2021 Mary Boren
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The Universe Resets

Though critical conditions reach a peak
on Saturday and multitudes are troubled,
with only seven midnights in a week
the hope of Sunday morning light is doubled.

The cosmic calendar is not concerned
with momentary intervals between
the folds of time and space. Where planets burned,
an emptiness now occupies the screen.

The rise and fall of empires in the span
of savage centuries is but a page
from one recorded Chronicle of Man,
unnoticed as the sweepers clear the stage.

For when the music strikes another chord,
the balance of Eternity’s restored.

2021 Mary Boren
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What the Tree Taught Me

When I witness your existence
as you navigate the distance
from the origin of purpose to the peak,
I am humbled by persistence
past the line of least resistance
in your resolute pursuit of what you seek.

While invincibly curtailing
paralytic fear of failing
you are crushing obstacles along the path.
Does the mountain you are scaling
lead to summit views unveiling
the reward for struggle in its aftermath?

Let us climb the hill together
as we both escape the tether
of conditioning that binds us to our birth,
for the thesis isn’t whether
we are made of wood or leather
but how feathered faith can soar above the earth.

2021 Mary Boren
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Miranda’s Midnight Walk

In a split-level duplex on Denver’s west side
where the gold dust and booze overflowed
from the previous century, someone appeared
at a newlywed couple’s abode.

“Did you see what just happened?” The unison chant
broke the silence as, bolting awake
with adrenalin pumping, they sat up at once
and described an identical take
on the bold basement visitor’s last fading flash
that remains an indelible clip
in this vividly witnessed and oft-replayed  film
even fifty years after the trip:

At the headboard, a rustle of taffeta stirs
in the mystical opening scene
as an elegant lady comes slowly in view
from the rear as she glides in between
man and wife unaware that we sleep on the grave
of society superimposed
on a future dimension with tenuous thread,
its connection as yet undisclosed.

Like Miss Kitty, complete with a bustle and hat,
she is dressed to the nines for the day
in a matching plaid number befitting her role
as a fashion plate walking away.

Then she ever-so-gracefully raises her skirt,
stepping down from the foot of the bed,
still not floating but moving with purpose and poise
through the wall of the closet ahead.

2021 Mary Boren
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Cosmic Crossroads

“Darkness will be preferred to light, and death will be thought more profitable than life; no one will raise his eyes to heaven; the pious will be deemed insane, and the impious wise; the madman will be thought a brave man, and the wicked will be esteemed as good.” -The Prophecy of Thoth

There will come a time, the ancients said,
when Planet Earth is severed from the Spirit.
As mystics strive to reconnect the thread
with sacred speech, the people will not hear it.

Redemption must go deeper than the words
to overthrow the pattern of stagnation
in human consciousness that undergirds
our currents of decline in co-creation.

For only when the willingness of one
and all anothers unified by reason
to forge ahead together has begun
will heaven manifest its winning season.

And each alone can activate the glue
that binds us to the cosmic retinue.


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2020 Mary Boren
View discussion on this poem.

“No I can’t stop that, but I can stop what I’m doing to contribute to it.”

Image Source Neil deGrasse Tyson is silhouetted against the birth of the cosmos – the Big Bang – at the inception of the Cosmic Calendar and its vast 13.8 billion years of cosmic evolution.

Oh, My Children

With the power to penetrate
the mystic guise and orchestrate
each mortal decision and consequence
I’d be a god you despise.

But with peace to liberate
all whose acts incarcerate
forgiveness and empathy deep within.
I’d show you how to relax.

And with joy to activate
the spirit’s lust to luminate
the dubious shadow on every face.
I’d be the knowledge you trust.

Boundless love to incarnate
with no intent to violate
respect for your license to co-create
rises on wings of consent.


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2020 Mary Boren
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Hello 2020

A fading dream’s elusive silhouettes
dance softly on my window shade at dawn
to remnants of a half-remembered song
as if to nudge awake what time resets.

So down a labyrinthine corridor
I chase the animated shadow’s tail
with pure intentionality, yet fail
to reinvent the guise it wore before.

You say the pragmatist within me knows
its visage drips with jewel-studded strands
parading on the stage with sick demands,
but I reject the path that poser goes.

For January brings a reckoning
in rituals to renovate the soul.
With White Stone Meditation / Burning Bowl
the decade waits, its promise beckoning.


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2020 Mary Boren
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Watchers

Eating popcorn at the movie,
gasping at the gruesome scenes
satisfies a dormant longing:
life by artificial means.

In the field of entertainment,
chaos brings its own reward.
Heightened senses lust for drama
manifest in gun and sword.

Watchers trapped within the frenzy
clamor in a common voice.
Re-emerging from the darkness
offers up a brighter choice.

When the world jumps out of focus,
squint your eyes and stand behind
someone with a crystal vision.
Let your lens be realigned.

Be the watcher watching watchers.
unaffected by the fray.
Pressing through illusion’s gauntlet,
live on purpose every day.

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2017 Mary Boren
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The Call of Home

Astral Projection

I’d love to travel astrally,
projecting past the sun and moon
into the realm beyond the bounds
of brick and mortar, blood and bone.

When carried on a single thought
aloft, my busy brain would cease
its constant chattering while I
enjoy the panoramic view.

But for the needs of day to day
existence in a mortal shell,
there’s no place I would rather live
than here at home on Planet Earth.

Let not her strength and beauty fade
because we failed to heed her cry.

———

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2013 Mary Boren
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Metaphysics

ethereal

When passing travelers are led to ask,
the explanation can become a a task
daunting to the neophyte
who strives to get the message right.

Though modern mind rebels
ancient wisdom’s light compels
simpler, gentler ways
to navigate the maze.

Reality,
not the dream we see,
splits the dark
with freedom’s spark.

What’s pure
will endure,
so
let go.

———

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2013 Mary Boren
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All is Well

Before the firmament was hung
as backdrop for the galaxies,
the spirit of creation stirred
and murmured, “All is well.”

Behind a white primordial screen,
the painter of the universe
was mixing colors, shades of light,
and smiling. All is well.

Between the oceans’ ebbs and flows,
the peaks and valleys, rocks and grass,
a changeless matrix is revealed
as proof that all is well.

Beyond the fundamental set,
the king of choreography
assigns the species to their marks
with purpose. All is well.

Because the players blink and fade
like stars in love’s connecting ring,
eternity’s a running show.
Forever, all is well.

———

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2013 Mary Boren
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Holy Instant

universe

Based on the teachings of A Course in Miracles

Behind each errant thought there hangs a thread
of continuity, a knowingness
that’s hidden by an unrelenting fear
of meaningless existence. Only in
suspended judgment can the truth emerge.
When ego is subjected to the light,
illusion evanesces. One by one,
each child of God, awakening, recalls
his rightful heritage of endless love,
for separation never has occurred.
Now, following the thread back to its source,
we see the world for what it is, a screen
projecting unreality, a blip.
The little willingness is all it takes
to conquer thought and matter, time and space.

———

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2012 Mary Boren
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Supermoon Meets Vernal Equinox

supermoon

I had an energizing dream about a peaceful morning
when everyone alive awakes renewed.
The air is pure, the water clean, no hint of global warming,
and no one lacks for shelter, clothes, or food.
The planet is awash with gratitude.

What happened to the weary world and all its weight of sorrow?
What monumental, unforeseen event
could render feuds forgotten as an ominous tomorrow
became today?  By mutual assent,
nobody even wonders where it went.

But as the dreamer, watching from a cloud at twelve-eleven,
I saw exactly how the shift occurred.
It’s not like everybody had to die to go to heaven.
The earth turned upside down, imbalance blurred,
and in that moment, inner vision stirred.

So now it’s spring in Perth and autumn in the Rocky Mountains.
Affluence is devalued, hope annealed.
As fear is toppled to the bottom, overflowing fountains
of love ascend to trump the sword and shield.
The veil has lifted; heaven is revealed.

———

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2011 Mary Boren
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Calling

NASA-1996-sunrise_apollo

I have fulfilled my purpose
when I cease to wonder …

Why am I here?
Am I doing this right?
What does tomorrow hold?

… when I can sit in stillness
and lose all sense of self in …

the song of a wren,
the rustle of leaves,
and the colors of sunrise.

I have reached the fullest expression
of human experience
when I can …

fix nothing,
forgive everyone,
and let go of everything.

I have not been suspended in a body
to learn, grow, excel, repent, or conquer.
My sole purpose in this incarnation is simply …

to wake up.

———

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2011 Mary Boren
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Poof

“I am never upset for the reason I think.” – A Course in Miracles

When the hairdresser clips you entirely too close;
when your child shows a penchant for sass;
when the seminar speaker is waxing verbose;
when your hero falls flat on his ass …
and a flood of emotion’s creating a stink
in your mind, STOP! Consider the fact
that you’re never upset for the reason you think.
You can choose how you want to react.

If you scrape off the crust of resentment or rage,
you’ll uncover a cowering imp
that is clutching a plagiarized script. On the stage,
he’s an icon. Exposed, he’s a wimp.
His persona’s all hype — “too ferocious to tame” —
but he only appears to exist
in the absence of love. Simply call him by name,
“little fear,” and he’ll fade into mist.

———

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2010 Mary Boren
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Transition

Deep within the hidden country,
down a road nobody knows,
lined in shades of mystic colors,
violets and indigos,
stands the bridge that spans a distance
wider than the river flows.
Can you read the cryptic marker?
Do you wonder where it goes?

Only audible in stillness
comes the summons, “Take my hand;
we will cross together.” Choices
dance around illusion’s strand.
Quickening, yet not awakened,
shedding scents of La La Land,
on the cusp of Dreamed & Doing,
step into the ampersand.

———

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2006 Mary Boren
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