By Len Henry

By Len Henry

Close, that my soul might feel the beat of you.


Naked, that I might be fully exposed and my ego freed from its place of hiding.


Hungrily, that I might be satiated by the way I am gifted you.


I am mid-sentence in this connection with you. Words unsaid still felt inside a vibration so penetrating that I can hear the call of God.


|Come nigh. Sit.|


How close are you to come in moments when your exhale has been the very breath of me?


Subtle. Sensual. Knowing.


This is how I love us…


…for the way our eyes make love to each other’s souls.

A return to center

How much time is to pass before you return to center? Life happens in the now of our being. We pause not holding our breath in wait of the perfect moment. It is only now and the view of perfection is held inside imperfect eyes. What of this human experience leads us to the embrace of illusions? We see clearly the way in the moment we open wide our eyes. How bold our walk toward the light! How illuminating the grace of life! It is with gratitude that we journey leaving no step of our walking skipped. It is here in the walking that we return to the center of being.


The moment



I am there inside the thought of my very own imagination. I go there wherever there is to go along the path of life. I walk. Where walk I always in the direction of the divine? Truth. I am loved deeply by God. Life. We have shared in an intimate relationship for lifetimes, beyond any time there is now to embrace. Vast. Tender in spirit was I when I encountered the very embrace of God. Unconditional. What greater gift is there outside of the way of acceptance? It is there that I have seen the All.




I climb high waves surfacing atop the ocean of your divinity. I see God in you. You awaken in me what it means to know. My senses touching a vibration resting inside the palm of God’s hand. What of meditation has caught me in a pause, stilled under the moon winking at the truth of day? It is there in nights air that I am led to you. How does it feel to feel? What of my touch has created in you an exhale? What of the breeze of my very own energy has led you here to me? Have you not followed the way within? Have you not listened within to that place that moved you back when life began and the breath of you was your first? I saw you then back before the eyes of me knew the energy of life. I felt you the way the air moves across the pores of my skin. Cold. Warm. Knowing.




What of life have I loved inside of you before now knew your face and any thought of the future was nestled here in the truth of the present? There is nothing more. There are only the seeds we’ve planted in fertile soil. Life. Nature. You have birthed every green to sustain the beat of my heart. You feel me and I am full. I thought about the way of marination–allowing the slow simmer of two becoming one. Who thinks in twos when they know of no separation?




They are God.




If I opened wide the door would you follow me? If I pointed there into vast space would you sit with me and gaze–would you come nigh to my soul along the way? If I drifted, eyes closed in the direction of infinity, would you travel with me along a path uncertain? Impermanence. There is only you inside this moment of time touching no-thing outside this space.




Freeze the clock and remember. Now.

My footprint



I have left it there that you might find me. The wine methodically placed in a glass atop the granite. I want you to see it when you enter. Dim the light and sip-slow. Be reminded of the way that I move in a room of music to the beat of you. Set down your burdens. Let the day fade to black where the moon illuminates the sky and you sink deeply into warm water. I have prepared a bath for you, like the table of Christ in the presence of the Divine. Let down your hair that you might feel the heat of winter, the chill of summer flowing through you. The curves of bubbles release into |O|ne. Tell me…how has the day found you? I hear that I might listen, yet my desire rises to the surface the way lotus petals float across water having survived the mud. You accept the |A|ll that I am, and I hold you in my arms chanting from the inner Eye Third in the night-light bright with awakening. We walk. Together. Yet in this moment you have entered the room alone inhaling the scent of me. I have been there. Do you see the glass? It is full of my choosing…you.

…but one request



I have not forgotten you. God. I remember always in the quiet when meditation sneaks up on me like a kiss upon lips-longing. Hungry. I have been hungry for the return of you. My journal awake to the writing where we commune in Oneness. Has it not already been written upon scrolls on walls hidden in a time and space outside of all time and all space? How vast your beauty! How awake and real inside my soul you are! Divine. I want only to touch your |T|ruth and to climb high the walls breaking down barriers that no-thing might separate us in this life. …and in the next I have but one request: that I know you still.

The space in between


That’s where I read the lines, tracing the journey with the tip of my pen’s poetry, like Braille. This is how I see you–in the pauses–where the whisper of me has been heard through the noise of cars on streets before dawn when cobblestone paths are lighted. Walking in skipped steps toward dark caves where I read the lines, the space in between.


Melting Pot

Melting Pot

What does it taste like, the chocolate of me melting in your mouth? I watch you lick your lips, the tip of your finger touching your mouth’s corner. I see you close your eyes. I close mine, joining you there in the tasting of layers having been peeled back. In my embrace is where you are held. Inside of my imagination is where I find my deepest thoughts of you. Wet with sensuality dripping. My tongue follows you, a playful game of chase.


I taste you.


Tag, you’re it.


I am led there in the direction of you, and where have you gone eyes closed lost inside the moment, suspended between ecstasy and longing? This is my longing moment and I breathe you in like air.


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