The Sharpest Knife 

Even the sharpest knife in the world cannot cut itself. 

Even the swiftest mind in the world cannot catch the origin of thought. 

Even the most open eyes cannot see themselves. 

Even You cannot find the You that perceives, that “thinks” and “moves”.

You can only Be and Dream that which is and isn’t. 



I turn to face the sun, open and smile.

The world is more beautiful now. 

The wild wind comes and manhandles me. 

Deeply rooted, I stand my ground. 

He leaves, and I, still basking in the sun, remain, ever more beautiful.


Maybe Heaven

To see the sun shining in the blue and white sky
And to feel the warmth from that same sun on my skin.
To feel caressed by the wind
And to see that same wind dancing with the leaves in the trees. 
To hear the cars going by like waves in the ocean
And to see that we are separate
Yet to feel totally connected
To it all.   
Maybe this is what heaven is. 

The Okay Poem


It’s okay to feel

and it’s okay to express.

It’s okay to desire

and it’s okay to fear.

It’s okay to scream

and it’s okay to cry

and it’s okay to laugh and be heard.

It’s okay to love.

It’s okay to hate.

It’s okay to be silent and still.


they’re just thoughts and feelings.

The real you doesn’t even exist.


Patrick Bridgeman © 2014

Lost & Found


I want to lose myself in you.
I want to be only the kiss,
the touch.

I want to give away my free will
and be moved by the impulses of our bodies.

I want to lose my desire,
wrapped in your limbs and the fulfillment of Being.

I want two to know they are One,
merged in the infinite blissful nothing.

I want to find my Self in you.


Patrick Bridgeman © 2014


The Flower of Falling in Love


The flower of falling in love
blooms in appreciation,
drinking in the beauty of what is.
Welling up and pouring over,
it bathes in the ecstasy of Now.

The vine of possessiveness,
if given half a chance,
creeps in and chokes the life from that love,
stifling growth
and suffocating expression.

They are often found together
by amateur gardeners of the soul,
who don’t know how to feed that first feeling with the food of freedom.

It is a feeling they chase;
a fleeting feeling that when fully felt and allowed to flow
bears fruit in the heart –
perfectly ripened and enjoyed.
A feeling that,
when allowed to go to seed,
spreads love through the natural wisdom of life’s breeze.

Are you growing flowers
or weeds?


Patrick Bridgeman © 2014