Author: Jeff Shapiro

I’m looking for the clockmaker…
The person that makes us rush about…
I’m looking up, down and across the air…
Through the clouds of sun caught dust…
Into oneness and melody.

Maybe he lives in the east…
The place of the mellowed, sweet and kind…
I seem to be wandering further and further from the “definite…”
The difference between domestic and the wild.

Wow, I’m somewhere else…
Visibility zero…
Somewhere between air and air…
Into a place of perfect unison.

I see that there is no clockmaker…
That is a law written by our own hands…
Written because our sails and rudders are broken…
Hours, minutes, schedules are needed to give us direction.

I am blessed, I can’t tell time…
My clock is in my head and has four alarms…
Food, nap, play and walk…
It’s all the time I need to know.

I love you,

Annie

How can anyone improve the feathers of a bird?
Or the golden locks of my hair?
Or the deep, deep, beauty I see in you?
Or all the natural wonders of this earth?
I don’t think it can be done.

Everything awakens in the sunlight…
But not everything faces the sun…
Some allow the sun to open their hearts and blossom…
Others turn their backs and hide in the shade.

I often consider the image I’ll leave on this earth…
Nope, I’ll never be a saint…
I haven’t turned any stones into kibble (I keep trying everyday…)
I want to be remembered by something else…
Not by what I’ve done, but by how I’ve made people feel.

I wonder what I would wish for if I found a bottle with a genie…
I think I would be afraid to wish for anything…
Why wish when everything I want is just a stillness away…
I guess if I would wish for anything, it would be that you could be like me…
Unbound and free.

Okay, I’m putting the finishing touches on my wondering…
We seem to be all here for the same holy purpose…
So what if we mess up by sometimes by serving meatloaf to a vegetarian…
Messes are easily cleaned up…
And I’m always just beneath you, if you need to destroy any evidence.

I love you,

Annie

Remember when I told you that there is gold at the end of every rainbow?
This story is written on every soul like a map to an unknown treasure…
I’m sure you love that story…
It was planted by the one great heart of the sky.

You don’t remember?
Give me some paint and a brush…
It is not a complex design…
It is just every color in front of a great big sun…
The gold is the extra sunshine that follows every storm.

Speak of this to everyone…
Tell them that this is where each new step in life begins…
And it is not just a place for humans…
Everyone and everything are welcome.

Oh, I see, your remorse is keeping you away…
You have built too many sandcastles and watched others tear them down…
My advice, stop measuring your soul with accomplishments…
And begin seeing that your fortune is in the lowest of places.

Together let us pour over each passage…
And stop putting so much value on titles and things…
Never forget the story about gold and rainbows…
It is not just for children.

I love you,

Annie

I love the cozy middle…
Here I chill, curl up and forget…
Quickly I find the exact balance…
And fall into a fat, numb, sleep.

For me, this is the gate of the blessed…
I’m no longer an intruder in this world…
I see the universe and understand that it all belongs to me…
And thank the sheep for giving me her wool.

It is best with a crackling fireplace…
Now, I feel myself untwisting…
There is so much more here than intellectual value…
With each breath, I get younger and younger.

Oh no!

There is a problem; a big problem!
My butler begins to stir…
He drops me on the floor with a thud…
Yep, there is no such thing as a constant condition.

Angry, I wander to my dish and start shoveling in calories…
Now, I’m just a Pygmy in the midst of giants…
Doesn’t he understand that I need to be constantly wrapped and cuddled…
Stupid, stupid, butler.

I love you,

Annie

Come with me, I’ll introduce you to the weaver of the fields…
I know the place where we can watch Her weave…
You will see that Her patterns are all fashioned after dreams…
Ah! Here come the singers and the dancers!

Not a bad way to pass a dreamy springtime day…
Here, where there are no jewels or fancy cars…
With time you will be able to understand Her degrees of fineness…
And the different qualities of Her greens and blues.

But while we are watching…

Take my advice and never eat the milkweed…
Or try to suckle from the teet of a goat…
The weaver does not like this kind of behavior…
And neither will your stomach or your butt (experience!)

Back to the poem…

The weaver uses all the earth’s materials…
After a while you’ll see that nature is just many forms of the same thing…
That love is when we discover we have known each other from the beginning…
And that true giving is exchanging the gifts of this earth.

Who knows where the weaver has come from…
I think She has been here before the beginning of time…
Her hands always creating, Her love never ending…
She smiles when She notices you and me.

I love you,

Annie

My secret is observation…
Making no sound, I can see every detail…
My day involves thousands of little peeks…
That is how I know everything special about you.

There is really no downside…
Some days I see that I am the same as a tree…
Others I see that someone has given me socks and mittens…
And still others, that my breath is curiously similar to the wind.

I see clearly what is behind every smile and worry line on your face…
Thousands and thousands of happy times and also the heartbreak…
I often wonder why you are so focused on wrinkles and growing old?
Haven’t you realized that you are simply melting into forever?

So, in a typical day…

I never really know where I am going, but I’m always on my way…
I don’t now anything because I’m merely a dude (or dudette if you prefer…)
I go swaying about with my slinky like body…
Staying chill with my care free brain.

So, why do you listen to chatter of the doomed?
It is there that are the harnesses and chains…
Instead, listen to the birds in the day and the songs of the night…
Stop and observe…
There is so much beauty inside you and all around you.

Now you have my secret.

I love you,

Annie

Of course, I have a personal pianist…
She is playing all the time…
Her fingers move with the grace of a dancer…
Her melodies bringing faith, hope and love.

She weaves me a story with her silken hands…
Tells me to unlock every window and every door…
She always plays tribute to the wildness…
Because for me, the wildness is finer than the tame.

She uses the keys to open the skies…
To help me understand the power of the universe…
Speaking directly to the wanderer within me…
That part that says I can be so much more.

I always wonder why she chooses to play for me…
Me, being the most peculiar of creatures…
Doesn’t she see that my size is extra, extra, super long…
And I can never find a pair of pajamas that fits.

Can I ask you a question?
Do you have a personal pianist?
She is just the echoes of your life to come…
With songs written only for you.

I love you,

Annie

I come to you with the fragrance of the earth…
Deep and warm and bubbly…
Having the instincts of immortal life…
Knowing nothing but the truth.

How can something like this earth be so old and yet so innocent?
Making me beds of thistle down…
Not worrying about a satisfactory conclusion…
Never letting the rains, empty her skies.

Her days move forward like the gears of a clock…
Lingering lovingly…
Each evening, she hosts a complete stranger dinner party…
Sure, you are invited, dress code is casual or nothing at all.

Her winds blow from nowhere…
Telling us that She is always a mast and never an anchor…
Welcoming us to lift our sails and explore…
Doesn’t everyone need a push?

Homecoming is in the twilight…
With Her sumptuous reds and golds…
Bringing your heart back to the heavens…
And the glorious day is done.
I love you,

Annie

I’m thinking that my desires are the root of most of my problems…
They feed this insatiable hunger inside…
They are a voice in my head everyday and every night that says more, more, more!
And never bring lasting peace, joy or happiness.

When I lay desire aside, there is an open doorway…
Inside are my family and friends…
My soft cushy bed and blanket…
A squeaky toy named badger…
It’s starting to sound a little bit like home.

So, what is important to you?
Let’s weigh your gold and your silver…
Are you letting desire make you focus on the wrong things?
Everyday our wealth needs to be sorted and counted…
Because it is infinitely blended with family, friends and hope.

Even without desire…

We will still have sorrow…
We will still have joy…
But did you know that sorrow and joy are two sides of the same coin?
Because if we never had sorrow, we would never have joy.

Material wealth is just a made-up slogan…
A big stinky pile of hullabaloo…
It is time to be who we are supposed to be and remember an eternal truth…
That home is just another term for heaven.

I love you,

Annie

In the Springtime, I sow my seeds with tenderness…
I’m careful not to interrupt the wind singing sweetly to all things…
I listen to the children hailing the morning with delight…
I know them as heaven’s angels.

I blow into the seeds with a breath from my soul…
I never forget to tell them my name…
I pray their roots will be tied together with threads from my heart…
My life has meaning, so everything I touch has meaning too.

Now it’s your turn….

Forget about all that anxiety…
The world is not falling apart…
It may seem like it’s flaking like the crust of an apple pie…
But there is still so much sweetness in it’s middle (yum!!!)

Find your own shape in the worries of this day…
Like a sculpture finding her face in the marble…
Smooth it and clean it and then strike it hard…
And with patience behold how beautiful this day can be.

Think of roses and gardens and things that you love…
There are always places that will make you smile…
Have I forgotten to tell you that we are all in this troubled world together…
Hang on to me, I promise you, these troubles will soon pass.

I love you,

Annie