Treasured energies
Can evaporate like steam,
When hot meets cold…
And so, my hands
Are gathered together
Before me,
As if to hold
What is precious within.
To make of myself
Sweet sanctuary,
Sensing
What inspired quivers
Remain
Still seem
Too beautiful to die.
Slip away though
They must.
But for nought,
Have I whispered
To my past,
Can I begin again?
For such is the illusion.
Nothing is ever
Ours to keep,
Rather only to glory in
For a while,
Nourished
By brilliant residues,
Till blest again.
This then our lot.
As, step by step,
Faith accrues.
Interiors of the Blue Mosque & Hagia Sofia, as well as the great classical sites of Ancient Troy & Ephesus and the amazing chalk water pools, occurring naturally in the mountains in Pamukkele. (click on each image for a closer view…)
Whenever you can conjure
The stillness to notice,
There is
A sense of the ancient
Hanging in the air.
A lingering spiritual fragrance,
Full of knowing,
That dresses
Contemporary journeys
Like ours.
And always set against
Such a broad tapestry,
Long woven too
With telling details
That confirm who we are,
Albeit still as raw
And naive as any infant.
All the more so
When stood, toe to toe,
With the luminosity
Of days gone by.
And embarking,
As best we can,
On the benevolent
Opportunity
Of one thin slice
Of a chosen life,
However glorious,
Or loaded with pathos
This eventually becomes.
No chance of tragedy
Here though!
For we truly are,
As we come to recognise
Ourselves to be,
Mere receptacles.
Gilded chariots
That our spirits ride out,
But for a hallowed moment in time.
The merest splash of presence
In the serried halls of wonder.
Always stay loyal
To that which feeds your soul,
Knowing, as mortal entities,
We can never go any higher
Than when we nourish
A little of God in ourselves.
Like a thin seam
Of silvered mineral within
There’s a hint of divinity here,
Some mystical suffused essence
That stays charged,
As if in the flow
Of an endless crystal stream,
Till our own sparking current fails…
This being so,
As our own life’s energies
Leak steadily away,
Every step we take
Is interlaced with goodness,
But that we knew it.
For deep, deep down
In the very wellhead of life,
Far beyond melancholy and despair,
Where real sweetness dwells,
There is an ever abundant
Reservoir of light
To be drawn upon by angels.
Fuel for a gathering readiness
That looks to ensure
We will be more than content,
When the time comes,
To simply surrender all we are.
And, in doing so,
Give sap,
Some shape, some form
To the many blossoms still to come.
As we toil and spin,
Pause and gather in the stillness,
Whenever you are able.
Trusting that,
Time after time,
This might bind ever deeper
In your soul
And, one day,
Come gloriously to bear.
Otherwise how vain
A deceit
Is such constant distraction,
That leaks into everything
To spoil our chances.
And, in so doing,
Look how we fashion instead
A raw and unnecessarily restless
Sadness in our hearts.
For it is what it is,
This life,
No more and no less…
And everyday
It shines upon us
With a patience
That is inestimable.
So take heart from this
And simply surrender in moments,
As best you can,
Even if only in modest ripples
That gently caress
The shore of your dreams.
There is an intricate chain
At work here,
From one fleeting moment
Of grace to another.
A myriad of links,
Far too long and interlaced,
Even within one
Tentative soul’s journey,
To fathom.
And so the challenge
Is a simple one,
To keep bringing light to bear.
And to do so
With all the good faith
One can muster,
Till some chinks appear.
A fateful knock at your door
That will surely come again.
And the choice then
Will always be a stark one,
Between surrender of sorts,
Or recourse to hollow dreams,
Long since eclipsed by time.
Our conjoined instincts,
Like sexual fire,
Come and go.
But that’s the way of things.
Forever in the background
A persistent, elemental energy
That didn’t ask to be here,
Just is…
And when it bursts forth
Tis a wonderfully furious thing.
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