Striking isn’t it?
How the joyous
Always reveal
Something fresh
And glorious
About themselves.
Illusions of vulnerability
Evaporated by pure spirit.
Just as it was that day
You kissed someone.
And for
The very first time
They truly kissed you back.
This then the beauty
Of being alive,
Pared down
To its very essentials.
Its trigger point.
This the first in a brand new series of high quality limited edition prints, all centred around images that have caught my eye when travelling.
This one inspired by a photograph I took of woodland in Slovakia.
More to follow… All signed and numbered in strictly limited editions of only thirteen. Giclee Fine Art reproductions on the finest 290 gsm stock (museum archive quality)
Cost £120 ($155) per print. All A3 in size (29.7 x 42 cms – unmounted and unframed) with free P&P worldwide. Top class studio mounting & framing is also readily available for UK orders.
To enquire about the availability for purchase of any of these limited edition prints, please email either centuria@hotmail.co.uk or feel free to contact Scott direct at scotthastie@hotmail.com
Delighted to say my one and only novel to date Reunion was this week published worldwide as an e book available on Kindle from amazon.com and priced only at £0.99 ($1.38) to help keep it affordable to everyone.
It’s been a long time coming…
And now couldn’t be any easier, as the Kindle App can be downloaded free of charge to any device of your choice, direct from the Amazon site.
An old view
Seen anew.
Lost
In morning perfection,
The illusion
Peacefulness
Improves everything,
When fervour’s a resource
Used all too sparingly
And there’s
So much wonder
Out there
To even ruffle the surface of.
How often
Do we turn away though?
Timid, as we are.
And without such sparks
Time can pass by,
Like an empty whisper,
Meaningless and negligent.
Till, all at once,
There you have it,
Pulsing within you,
The day of days!
Whatever else
Might come your way,
This you will always know.
Never rewarded thus
Unless you sing so.
Like some flutter
Of a fishing line,
Whose glistening hook
You’ve already
Been caught upon,
Don’t ever look to
Undervalue suffering
When it comes to visit.
Equal as it is
To any kinder, softer,
Sweeter experience.
For, taken altogether,
This is how
We are nourished,
How we grow into
The glorious spaces
In between.
Till some vital sense
Of mystery
Is at last dissolved,
The sun glints again
Through the forest
And our hearts are captured
In a blaze of joy
And aching melancholy,
Like a memory of heaven.
From that moment on,
We become seekers.
And see how often
We lay down
To make beauty.
Then let it all go again
Longingly.
Trusting that these,
Our devotions,
Will somehow
Always endure.
With an acknowledgement to Peter Mattheissen
“And death shall have no dominion”
Given all we are born to
In this gorgeous sunlit bower,
Whatever bonds we forge,
Even as charmed infants,
Or the more teasing passions
We might uncover later
In this deliciously viscous,
Verdant world,
They all come from this.
Our chance of flesh and blood
And there’s no coming back
From that,
Nor should there be.
For any alternative
Would be impossibly dry,
Like dancing endlessly
With tattered ghosts
Already decomposing
Before your very eyes;
The defeated drunk at the bar,
A broken hearted
Chalice of dreams,
As dry as dust…
And God knows!
Tis precisely
Such a luscious procession
Of fruitful opportunity
That keeps us aglow.
So, as one long,
Lazy summer’s day
Chases on another,
Let us indulge ourselves
As kings and queens of the moment.
Quaff deeply of all that is on offer
And in loving increments
Fill our vessel to the brim.
And surely,
Better by far to live like this?
As if without a care,
In good faith too,
Whilst our spirits are still eager
And bodies abundantly charged.
Knowing that when these,
The best of our glorious days
Have been and gone,
Then to sleep contentedly
With angels
Is all we could ever wish for.
Passing,
So often fruitlessly,
Through all the doors
To desire in life,
Far finer, faraway prizes
Twist and tease still,
Like runaway kites
Caught up
In a storm of being
That only more mindfulness
Can becalm.
Oh, for an end
To such struggles.
And with kind devotion
Comes just that.
An embrace
Of perfect peace
That never fails
To usher in
Its own mysteriously
Unforeseen reward.
Blanket upon blanket
Of selflessness,
Nestled now securely
In the glowing casket
Of your soul.
Where, deep therein forever,
Lies the warmest
And truest of dividends.
The lingering presence
Of love
Beneath the fragile,
Needy contours of us all.
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