Legend

6 06 2013

I

Violent tendril drumbeats fly, before the ever present eye,
that wakes upon a sudden state, of loving love and hating hate,
of what we know – not think is best – the spirit is the only test,
It sits upon a shelf and asks, “Will you not look – will you not glance?

It lies in summers aching arms, and shies away when met with harm.
It soars upon the waking trees, that lilt and laugh upon the breeze,
of summers folding into night, the sheerest fame of sheer delight.
Wafting on that ever breeze, the forests scent of sacred trees.

Her spirit laughs with such delight, for though she gives, she will not fight.
She takes it in and lets it ride, upon her spirit soaring high.
For she has gone on longer than, the tufts of hide and roofs of men.
She sees them as a kindred race, and gives them love, while sharing grace.

Enfolded in her many wombs, her sacred tents and ancient tombs,
she left there what she could not give – our history – what we have lived.
It lies alone, still buried there, by deepest night and dark despair,
amongst the halls and tombs of men, who chose not love, but hate instead.

Those kindred spirits flying free, are welcomed by immortal breeze,
flying ever on the heights, of wandering souls and dreaming knights,
the places where the heart grows bare, if seed is never planted there,
amongst the things that grow so bright – and light the caverns of the knight.

They lie now where the spirit is – eternal love and silent bliss.
And when we choose to rise above, they speak the truth and sow her love.
Fey are all her sullied wings, the verses that she did not sing.
The paltry things of filth and waste, the sultry things, enjoyed in haste.
The things from which the spirit shies, though body comes with waking eyes.
The things our mortal bodies bear, but spirit cannot ever share.
Things we see through greedy stares, the fleshly wants that don’t compare,
to what she ever freely gives, her knowing love and tender bliss,
the place we live in spirits grace… when we have felt its barest trace.

Forward go her given gifts, with weary eyes, the spirit lifts…

 

II

A knight in armor standing there, with eyes of silver, dark and fair.
A star upon his breast that shines, with all the things that are divine.
He walks with wonder and with praise, of spirit that must walk in days,
where others have forsaken love – he holds her rose in fisted glove.

His spirit sees the truth that is – he seeks her lovehe seeks her bliss.
Her waking heart, her beating breast, have come to him above the flesh,
where spirit hides but ever soars, upon the still embattled shores,
of things he thought held great allure, but did not pass – did not endure.

The quaking of her very limbs, the darkest night, from day begins.
He passed before the very gate, of hating love, and loving hate.
But ever forward, ran this knight, her sullied trusses shining light…
He bore them like a banner spared, from what his body felt and shared,
within the gleam of darkest night, his spirit rallied, chose to fight.
He spoke the words she longed to hear, they fell upon her brightest ear…

I am still love, I do not hate. I come at last, though long you wait.
My body lies on distant shore, though it lives on, it is no more...
I have become what you have shared, I am the one, the all, that dared,
to see your truth and rise above, the things this body, thought were love.

She sent him back to distant shore, to where his body was no more.
He prayed to her from where he knelt – from where his spirit truly felt,
that all around was what he was, and nothing else was real because,
here his soul felt love and light, as spirit danced, through his dark night.

He begged her not to send him back, to where his body seemed to lack,
the courage felt when he was whole, when he was spirit… he was soul.
He never pined to feel again, the bodies flesh and earthly pain.
But in his spirit, now he knew, the truth of what she said to do…

 

III

She called for him to rise from knees, that never more would need release.
She told him that he could not stay, where spirit laughed his cares away.

Your mortal life is what you be, though all remain a part of me.
Your mortal voice is what is heard, above the din – it speaks the word.

Speak of what you see and feel, and tell them all that it is real.
Speak of me not what you think, but what you felt there on the brink,
of love and light, so glaring bright, it shed the darkness of its fright.
Speak of things beyond the veil, do this and you cannot fail.

Speak of angels velvet wings – a soul that loves is one that sings.
Speak of elves so bright and fair – of living love and not despair.
Speak in glory of the tale – where mortals all refuse to fail,
the test of violet swirling mist – where mortal bonds do not exist.

Write of me as whitest dove, for earth is all undying love.
Sing of me as you have heard, the air that speaks, bereft of words.
Dance before the blazing pyre, be the spirit of my fire.
Cleanse with waters of the earth, the rivers daughters joyous birth.

But most of all, be true in spirit – live as though you are still near it.
Speak the things that spirit feels – this is how the spirit heals.
Be the truth you know you are – the souls immortal, rising star.
Be the one that cannot fail, the spirit is the holy grail.”

The spirit felt the words she said, though flesh can rarely hear,
the voice within, above the din, so far, and yet so near.
He stands upon that distant shore, blazing with her light,
in his body, he is sure, that spirit, gives him might.

 

An epic re-post, or riposte.

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Essence

4 06 2013

The essence of divine at last, embracing future, present, past.
The words I put upon the page, from some enlightened, bygone age,
the story still remains the same, there is no gold, nor fortune… fame,
yet quantum peace and bliss is there, riches far beyond compare.

She travels on, yet never moves, her spark the fire that consumes,
illusions of my waking thoughts – still unaware that what I sought,
lies within… above…. below… in places where my shadows throw,
a darkness on that blazing light, that glows forever, in my night.

The blinking maze, of sight and sound, that keeps the spirit moribund,
in fleshy cages, where we pine, for inner feelings, so divine.
I travel on my wayward path, embracing love, forsaking wrath,
yet undefined, remains the spirit, though I may bask, in lamplight near it…

A timeless age still lies in wait, for men who never question fate.
Their brave hearts true, can pass each test, as they embark, upon the quest,
the ever laded, seeing eye, glimpses them as they pass by,
while mortal flesh, lies unaware, of visions that she chose to share.





The Greening of the Birch

1 06 2013

She rises now, into the sky, in green and white perfection,
not knowing how, or caring why… embracing her connection.
Such grace and truth, in natures yield, shared upon the earth.
The face of youth, in every field, such rare and timeless worth.

While mother birch, lay fast asleep, through frigid silver nights,
the willow first, began to creep, her way towards the light.
Her furry limbs, caressed the sun, and drank in all that power,
as spring begins – now one by one – each bud begins to flower.

As summer starts, the green becomes, the flowers burst and bloom.
There is such art, in scenes undone, of winters thirst and gloom.
While beauty rested, under snow – a million gleaming points,
our flesh was tested – as she sows – where frost and ice anoints.

Now I sit, amongst that green, amazed again by truth.
This hurried fit, and sacred scene, I find solace… in that youth.
I cannot voice, the things I see, now flowing through the air,
there is no choice – in things so free – or knowing of despair.





Evenstar

26 05 2013

She walks in colors, through the night, the Evenstar of such delight.
She wanders on forever lost, while birthright still remains embossed,
upon the darkest sky within, she knows not hate, she knows not sin,
for she is truly, what we are, that light immortal…Evenstar.

While flesh continues, on its way, the light shines on, through night and day,
it’s birth began, when all was dark, the spirits first, immortal spark.
Begun when there was nothing else, it’s birth is somehow ever felt,
by those who feel and those who hear – the Evenstar, will draw them near...

Basking in its barest traces, raising arms and turning faces,
to the light, born from the dark, where spirit ever leaves its mark…
The gifts –  eternal grace and wonder – free to all, not torn asunder,
by the flesh – our fleeting moment – effulgent star of mortal foment.

May it always not be so, and may that spirit ever grow,
among the lonely camps of men, scattered… lost…. imaginings…
While what we think we hold so dearly – may we some day see it clearly!
As our Evenstar arises, leaving us bereft of guises.





New Again

24 05 2013

New Again,
the forest whispers
Sunlight gleams
on freshly laden boughs
silver moonlight reflects
the billion facets
of a newly
flowing stream

New Again,
the prairies beckon
signaling their timeless call
waves of new growth
reflect
the ageless light
of a flowing inland sea

New Again,
bog and fen
free now of
their winter pen
the crone will sleep
again this summer
until this season
brings another





The Ancient Dance

23 05 2013

Love still speaks and ever flows, in places where the lamplight glows.
It walks in colors through my nights, indigo fires burning bright.
Speaking in tongues of beauteous things – harps and crowns and golden rings.
Though love lies sleeping, in my dark, it starts such fires, with it’s spark.

Meadows bristling in the winds, that come from where the tale begins,
long before this mortal cloak, found the words it glibly spoke.
Eons passing on the shores, where faeries dance  forever more…
upon the beaches, where her sieve,

forever takes… forever gives...

Be still…  the beating of this heart, aware of how the legends start,
where heroes stand and villains fall, where brave hearts yearn to heed the call,
of timeless unions, living still, amongst the bones of our free will.
Though ages pass, this will not change, our fate is ever, rearranged…

Destiny… Desire…

haunts…

the love his flesh and spirit want,
sowed in clouds

the lamplight glowing –

planted seeds of barely knowing.
The union of his thoughts and actions – camped apart in separate factions.
Together… when they have the chance, and join once more, the ancient dance.





The Wisdom of Youth

22 05 2013

Timeless voices call again, from plains and prairies, bog and fen.
Ageless whispers on the wind, ending now where they begin.
Sounding on the wondering ears, of those who listen – those who hear.
The ones who feel the earths great truth, the wisdom of our graceful youth.

The longing cries of gulls and crows, lost we were, within their throes.
Waves releasing on the beach, seeking there, what she released,
from her great sieve, her wondrous oceans, magic spells within the motions,
of the tides perpetual grind, treasures there we’d always find.

Running careless through her sands, our skin becoming dark and tanned.
Swimming in the bright green waters, fathers sons and mothers daughters.
In our youth, we felt her grace, and as we age, we feel a trace,
of all the beauty that she is, her loving touch and tender bliss.

Returning now, to youth we lost, does not entail any cost.
The wonder that we felt so strong, her blissful dance and ever song,
lives on – though we may heed it not – if we so choose, it will be lost,
replaced by things we wanted more, while youth still dances on her shore.








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