Writings

Not Lost

I don’t think my life is wasted.
I see myself mirrored in many of my youthful visions,
I have waited patiently for those forms to arise,
I was not lost.
I was held tenderly in my own embrace,
Wanting only the most authentic of those visions to bear fruit.
Who am I, who was I, –
As I banged out notes on keys,
Striking the chords of my attempts to give form to my newest self.

I am forever re-approaching my highest achievements,
Propelled higher, further, longer, deeper.
In my deepest bliss,
In my dance of unfettered bewilderment,
Flushed, exhausted, hungry, drained, –
I touched my heart,
I touched the heart of all that is beating around me.

I see myself mirrored in the sky,
Free of all restraints,
Ready to embrace something I can’t put a name to.

I place myself in this moment time and time again,
Ready and willing,
And then grasping at something that melts between my fingers.

I don’t think my life is wasted.
I am not lost.
I am who I was, and was, and was.
I am a complete mystery to myself.

I found, I find, that all that I am is being reborn and reborn,
Again and again and again,
One more time, I have come back to myself,
I have visited me from my unborn peace,
I am embracing me,
Who I have seen once before,
Looking back envisioning the future.

I am not lost,
Perhaps I am only seeing things differently than you.

Perhaps I am not waiting at all…

 

6491367057_cd243a76e3_b
photo:  Zhenya Bakanova, Alex Grabchilev
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Arriving

When I came, you were not there,
Arriving, I waited. –
A life’s questions pondered, I waited,
Plodding the streets to find your voice, you were silent,
Pulling me into hidden corners, you were not there,
Your voice I heard through the walls, you vanished,
I dreamt a thousand times, I arrived.
A cool clean room, old wooden scent, stillness,
You were there, I didn’t see you.
Arriving, I waited. –
Getting up, I breathe the distant mountains,
Moon setting, blueness lighting,
Your voice, I dreamt a thousand times.
Standing, I’m awakened,
Pulled inward, my eyes and mouth opened,
All around, a thousand pieces falling.
A thousand times, you pulled me deeper,
You were there, I didn’t see you.
Your voice I hear through the layers, I am guided,
A vision settled in peace, candle lighting, stillness,
Arriving, I am here. –
Arriving, you were waiting.

 

woman in the mountains
photo:  Zhenya Bakanova/Alex Grabchilev

The Igniting Firmament

Filled with fire with magic seeds
Planted in nuclear dust from flowering needs
In firmaments glowing from embers rise
To a landscape golden with enterprise
As if some Sun rose to internal bloom
Igniting the horizon of the morning Moon
Setting ablaze the deadwood trees
Broken the crust of stagnant seas
Flowing in nocturnal tides will nourish
And peaceful dreams of love will flourish.
The hearth that burns warm inside
Lasting endearments to that youthful source
Over many a year that came divide
Many a choice would laughter divorce
Many a voice that temperament cooled
With resenting eyes dried tears on our face
Without a joy we wiped away fooled
And dreamed of love in the cold dark Space.
Placing visions among the fiery skies
Would we come burning along a moonlit field
Voices echoing that we set in lies
Come soothing truths to which we humbly yield
Holding a torch in that lunar chasm
Warming tending the heat of our dreams desire
Calming the cry of a neglected spasm
Reclaiming a stolen gem for which we did not tire.
Blooming to the east that most golden Sun
Lighting a most spectacular return
Forgiving confusion in all that was done
Embracing that for which our hearts did yearn
And lying in our field of flames
We embrace calling forth our names
Holding hands in our naked mend
Into our eyes we do softly blend.

 

artist: Tomasz Alen Kopera (gif animation by George Redhawk)

Ancient Tree

With two feet planted in earth and deep,
Head so high so far so steep,
Into the upper reaches I do touch,
My arms widely do spread as much,
My heart is open for you to glean,
A breath, a wind, a breeze so clean,
A warmth to comfort console unseen,
A word in eloquence so slightly phrased,
A voice that softly intones a praise:
‘For now you are ready are poised and amazed.
And in your soft repose shall meet,
A garden of dreams laying at your feet,
A silken thread too will glow,
Of your efforts your journey your pathway know,
Of your seeds planted some years ago,
The soil, it nourished it cared to show,
The Tree that lives inside you will grow,
And house the many wishes you’re soon to sow.’

 

sequoia
image source

Shaman

To share solace with those who’ve received none,
To be taught by those who cannot speak,
To be popular among the unpopular,
To have honesty in a field of deception,
To be discreet in a valley of turmoil:
It is through the company of things ancient,
That I understand my present.
It is through my service to others,
That I connect with my ancestors.

 

bear bull by otto rapp
artist: Otto Rapp

The Student

Many ask of me who I am and where I go,
That it may satisfy an image in which to fill.
If these questions serve them I do not know,
As I myself hear voices that overspill
Through the wind in my hair,
Offering only clues to embrace,
An image to extract, to glean, – to spare
Perhaps a silent kiss upon my patient face.

Perhaps I stare naive into this dreamy land,
Expectant of some scene to manifest,
As young eyes perceive the profound and grand,
While lingering upon the harsh and silent test.

An odd and angular place in which to rest.

And I’m asked to wait, –
And I’m asked to create, –
In a solitude,
Whose embrace is at times slightly skewed.

For now it is quiet, – and still
It is yes for many and no for me, – until
Perhaps the wind may pass its lessons wise,
To this student such that will reprise
The golden horizon, – a promise
Of her gentle voice upon my ready ear within my gentle space,
Upon my ready hands and lips and face, –
– a kiss.

 

Helen Muspratt
photo: Helen Muspratt

 

The Temple

sunrise
image source

 

Now my future is bright and clear.
As I extract myself from this hemisphere,
I sit transfixed in an emerald plane,
Upon which falls a delicate rain.
And I think as the golden orb rises to view,
Of my eternity, and to pursue
The myriad joys laid before my eyes,
In a fashion which asks no compromise.
Like a solar wind moving free and pure,
A current of force through all endure.
As the Temple incense rises serene,
I gaze into the empyrean,
And find that I am truly calm,
Upon the green Earth’s loving palm.