The Reach

27 06 2013

An island stands mountainously,
a back drop for lookers on.
A monument to creation itself.

The reach lies in wait,
silent, without disposition or expectation

-terribly still-
a mill pond calm
prevails grudgingly.
Distances vary as the lodes
of the living waters transit
change into ponds,
and then again
to rivers and streams,
deliberating their contiguous
routes to the sea of commonality.
Twins, Kindred, they be,
of the divine ways they have traveled,
the hapless spawn of intent bringing quieting,
rioting bluebells in spring, freshening, while
making inscribed, weathered highways of this world.
(though there are other worlds than this)
Long traveled, familiar, yet un-navigable

is the reach-

it’s byways gone(un-mapped)in a nod of whispers(or a whisper of nods).
Traveling rivers of desire. Scaling the mountains of knowledge.
Afloat in a salty sea of truth. Sanctified by sanity.
Sanitized by sanctity. Gifted in absentia…

We journey from
shore to island,
from island to shore.

Love lies in the reach.

For so long as blue bells bloom
or mountain avens give birth
from the rocky, hallowed crags
of creations womb, then…

Love lies in the reach.

Belying the compromise of
our brief, flowing span,
Eternal and Indigenous, we are, when…

Love lies in the reach.

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Pictured Trees

17 06 2013

*

i
saw
these
trees,
today.
Again,
and,
for the first time.
Magnetically flowing,
and charged,
was the face,
of our divinely,
unrepentant,
stoic kin,
reflected,
and represented,
in a picture of the grove.
These faces flowed gracefully
through the hair of our mother,
the forest, and stood stark,
resplendently, reverently…
Portrayed and captured
by a human device,
in the hands,
of another mere mortal.
The first picture was feminine.
Lips below, seductive and tranquil,
Guiltlessly, Peacefully, Murmuring
Oh to hear such words as they spoke!
Blossoming and flowing gently,
from within the ancient realm,
of this most ancient wombs’,
perpetual dominion,
which is the
forest.
Such
were
the
eyes,
alas,
to look upon
such eyes!
What fate would that be?
To meet the gaze of such eyes as these?
These eyes that flow through the ancient trees,
then disappear in a string of flowing boughs,
scant seconds before meeting the gaze…
The divine mystery directing a symphony,
with a truly divine back to the audience,
congregation-community.
At the very edge,
of almost seeing into these eyes,

another face blossoms from the first.
Perhaps it is a perpetual portrait of divinity,
sacred fractals molded into pixels
being shown to mere mortal souls,
in flowing, scrolling,
sepia toned transience,
and black and white…
Brilliance.
Shown to be,
were those faces,
one of Many.
No greater,
or less,
than any Other.
When they were
flowing together…
When they
were one.
Just the same,
were those faces
in the trees,
that I saw today.
In them i saw
an accepted,
transient,

nomadic diversity,
and inherent divinity.

*





Creed

13 06 2013

I here the wisdom of your words,
forever striving to be heard.
Lost among a million voices,
lost among the many choices.
Feast or famine, rich or lowly,
bang the drum now, bang it slowly.
Let the earth hear what you say,
by dark of night, and light of day.

The race we are, just one-not many,
existing in this land of plenty,
waging wars, we never wanted,
by their ghosts our race is haunted.
No true faith has brought them on,
each god taught love, and sang it’s song.
The hate and greed that made men die-
a tellurian creed, our race’s lie.

Growing in the hearts of men,
thoughts of peace now move the pen.
Darkness now lies unrequited,
a vessel new-it’s been re-fitted.
In the shadows of the glow,
made by lamplight of the flow,
lie the things we left behind,
the lessons learned, by our great mind.





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.





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.





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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