As the Dawn

7 06 2013

Vast upon,
the greening field,
the spirit lies in wait…
As the dawn,
it’s teeming yield,
is found
at heavens gate.

Though mortal man,
may beg it’s bounty,
few have ever heard.
So poor a plan,
fey is counted…
by those
who speak
the word.

She gives up naught,
when it is asked…
yet concedes it
as it’s
needed.
Though man is fraught,
with toil and task,
his deeds
become
conceited.

Ask it not,
and you shall find,
the grails endless wealth,
it’s what we’ve got,
in one great mind,
and tales that we tell.





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.





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.





Joining the Dance

21 05 2013

Softly sings that ever song, the lonesome dance goes ever on.
The spirit lights the path now taken, lamplight glows as souls awaken.
Inherent thoughts now rise above, the rose still clenched in fisted glove.
Love and laughter light the road, that leads us to our new abode…

Many souls awaken there, trading what the spirit shared,
while they walked that lonely path, embracing love, forsaking wrath.
Lost they’re not, in lamplight gleaming, truth is what they found in dreaming,
of the things the spirit is, the breathless passion, timeless bliss.

Seek it not, and we will find, the things our bodies left behind,
upon the path of flesh and blood, the rising tide, the coming flood.
We are spirit, we are flesh, the sacred tools, we seek to mesh,
within each moments blazing time, that golden light that spirit shines.

Undefined… the spirit lifts, and from our soul it gently sifts,
the thoughts unkind, our vessels truth, with golden light that marked our youth.
Our mortal thoughts lie unaware – illusions of the flesh we bear.
When we are spirit, we are strong – we join the dance, and sing along.





Breathless

20 05 2013

Was it you I saw dance, in the ether today?
Were you breathless and calm, and longing to stay?

There were colors that blossomed, across a dark sky,
as the veil departed, they blithely flew by,
bobbing and weaving, violet and green,
red tinged with yellow, so calm and serene.
Did it click, like a light, turning on in the dark?
So suddenly bare, like a tree without bark?
And did you go on dancing, though you knew all could see?
Did that matter to you?
Nor did it to me.

Are we not one inside, as we always have been?
From ourselves can we hide, or commit any sin?
The acceptance of love, that we know is divine,
while divinity glows, like a light that we shine,
can be nothing so sullied, or vanquished… belied,
though so many will doubt – they just haven’t tried…

Leaving all thoughts, and conceptions behind,
floating on breezes, of colors designed,
by some other hand, neither evil nor good,
simply believing, and knowing, they should.
Free as that lark, so immortal in verse,
free of the lie, and the truth, and the curse,
free of all judgment, all sorrow and shame,
free of all things, that we thought held such fame.

Was it I, that you danced with, in the ether today?
Was I breathless and calm, and longing to stay?
If it was, please don’t wake me, I’d rather just dream,
than awake in a world, that is not, what it seems…








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