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.





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.





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.





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.





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.





Voices of Reason

19 05 2013

Blow with me, said the wind, my path is clear, and knows not sin.
Shine with me, said the sun, your journey has not yet begun.
Fall with me, said the rain, I know not fear, I know not pain.
Stand with me, said the trees, for from me comes the air you breath.
Float with me, said the ocean, my tides set greater things in motion.
Rise with me, said the mountain, for from me flows your purest fountain.
Set with me, said the moon, my power makes the oceans swoon.
Wish with me, said the stars, I bring you light, from near and far.
Sing with me, said the universe, I am the chorus, you are the verse.

Love me…
Be at peace with me…

Respect me.

Said mother earth.
Worship me not,
yet value my worth.








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