Saturday, 26 May 2018

"From An Ivory Tower;" Volume Three; The Ragged Writings of Everland; Arkiahh Dreaming





Standing still and gazing from an ivory tower
Looking out upon a landscape
That took your breath away . . .
Leaving you helpless in hushed silence
Impotent, held fast by its majestic imprint
Upon your soul, its indelible mark in your spirit . . .
Astounded that the power of distant hills
Slopes of greening trees
Mesmerizing valleys and purple mountains
Should so take you with it and blend you
With that patchwork tapestry of tiny fields beyond
That you were caught up in the eclectic interplay
Of its magical colours, shapes and forms
With the music which is the harmony of its inner substance
Captured by that hint it was given to give
Of a further far country past the boundaries
Caught in the rapture which splendid towers can engender
In the midst of a people, broken, lost in wonder, but        
Found with the most magical ingredient of all . . . joy!
The Joy which has not yet any words to describe it
But this picture . . .
Hops and skips and little jumps
Borne upon tiptoes in steps so lifted
Your feet were hardly touching the ground
And, tumbling wheels, turning cartwheels inside
And, spinning round and round and round
While standing not so still gazing from an ivory tower
Looking out upon a landscape
That took your breath away . . .



                                    *



Friday, 25 May 2018

From "Arkiahh Dreaming" . . . Volume Three; The Ragged Writings of Everland



Even In An Eggcup Of Nothing

EVEN AN EGGCUP of nothing, a cornucopia of beauty
Could contain a fortune, conceive a universe
But who would count on it---touch and believe it?

Because we aren’t so accustomed to reading
Invisible things---and standing on them---
And having everything, thereby

But whittled down to zero having nothing at all
There offered a basket but given a feast 

There---there was the pleasing for the heart’s eye
In seeing two distinct things---
And at the back of my palate I tasted a comfort in it---
And being storm tossed and not comforted
Satisfying something in me somewhere 

Not possible in the natural world
To stand on nothing
And have that hold you up---
But in the super world
Where I lived it was entirely possible
And I could walk on air
And feast on it---
A well of water inside



                                    *




Thursday, 24 May 2018

From "Arkiahh Dreaming . . ."




Beginning At The End Of Me I Saw Twice As Far 



BEGINNING at the end of me I saw twice as far
But I was so used by now
To the back-to-front way of things that real life taught me
That it scarcely startled me to know . . .
Know . . .
That the scraps of things that spoke had their own voice
And that the ends of my ability became their beginnings
The beginnings of another which was twice as wonderful
Where I left off . . . LIFE took over . . .
And caught up in shining streams of gold light
Saw above and beyond all I could ever wish for!




                                            *


Saturday, 19 May 2018

Extempore... Those Who Had Gone Beyond The Distant Sunset . . .



   
Those who had gone on beyond the distant sunset
Through the fire-bright in the ends of the earth
Burning in topaz and jasper in love all enclosing
For their promise of the way of the return
To the All-Desired

Behind them a trail of stepping stones laid
For those who would follow  
Through the first mists of amethyst and purple 
Through the second light of childlike trust
The veil over the ends of the world

They turned to face those faithfully
Who sincerely sought the simplicity of the Light
And gave up their little book in joy
Their very life for the life of their friends









Thursday, 17 May 2018

(Poetry) from: Arkiahh Dreaming; Volume Three; The Ragged Writings of Everland




Why was one lonely?


Why was one lonely?
Where do the steps of the lonely take them?
Going home at the end of an outing
They walk in
And there is something of comfort there
A room and the things of ease are there

If, for the body there was this, what for the inner?
Going in at the end of an inning
They found a room inside
According to what they had put there did they find              
Any comfort in it...
Even so, there was never completeness there
They were lonely though they had these two rooms

Emptied, white herons fly further
An inner, yet again



                                        *



It was the way of life... that by a continual progression
To things that are both new and strange the world goes on
Goes forward... and on and on... claiming new territories
It was the steps of the lonely that would find and pave the way





     *


    
Dreams to Take You Through


A GIFTED light for an entrance
Dreams to take you through
Opening in the purposed heart
Not denied any perfect place

A child’s lisp sent through air
A book written by a sparrow
Of fledglings in springtime
Were little, lit flows of words

Hungry and longing for more
A songbird seen through a gap
Wanting, not taking time to eat
Rags of stars gone unconsumed

Quick droplets fall all in tune
Rounds in circled playgrounds
As long as sound filled holes
Pools playing multiple songs

Winds roar fearing obstacles
Words speaking in closed mouths
Mystery covering the lighted thing
Insight hid from closed minds

Quiet waiting and a silver thing
The moon-dew in a cradled cup
Out of darkness the light shines
Out of not seeing, seeing comes

The desired in pulled threads
Dreams to take you through
Silver sound in broken colours
Out of the unknown the rain

A brightness through an open door
News of a far country
Surer even than breath the inkling
The world beyond behind the world

Caring for the crazy a velvet purse
Not deeming the thing useless
They find a key who split puzzles
The desired in a cache of mad gold

In a sea of many floods of love
Things that made them nearer
Paring away their fleshy part
Pearl seeds in a pomegranate

Circles with straight endings
Dreams to take you through
Spirals of tall ladders in rags
Yet they don’t even see the clue

Not in what they want to know
The desire they desired
Life in the light of the back to front
Not afraid of dying



*  




Wednesday, 16 May 2018

(Story) A Book is Like a Sacred Isle . . .



Compassion

  I have just finished reading a book, a biography, about a famous author, whose checkered life at first filled me with dismay, and at times I wondered what on earth I was doing reading a book about such a perverse character; and yet I continued to read, fascinated. The more I read, the more his life was revealed to be truly weird; and to me, even repulsive in places; but his writing was utterly beautiful; astonishingly fine English. And as I chose not to put it aside but to keep on reading I discovered compassion being worked in me; and I found a genuine love for this troubled and tormented man growing within me. Towards the end of the book, at the description of his death, I cried. Then I was sad that the book had come to an end, and that there was no more to read of this totally complex, ‘nearly-great, but fatally flawed man.’ 

  I soon realized that the experience of reading this book had been important and transformative in my life. It had taught me not to be afraid of coming into contact with things I considered ‘strange.’ I saw the good in a person would always balance out, even cancel out, for me at least, all the bad in them. Further, the complex contrast between the two made their good aspects truly shine; just as stars shine only in a dark sky.

  Through reading this book I came to recognize, even further, the fact that there were preconceived opinions in me, and that I didn’t like them, and I didn’t want them in my life. The book’s overall effect on me was that I was taught, more passionately than ever, not to prejudge, anything.

  I realize now how very deeply I wanted to be rid of judgmental opinions, and to have a pure heart that found no cause for the rejection of any fault in any person. What treasure I would have missed out on had I not persevered, and read this wonderful book! …Never let me be afraid of a challenge to change!

  It is not those things we want to know that help us the most, and reveal what we’re after, but those we don’t want to know, and turn from: the real treasure was where we hadn’t looked for it before.
                                               


                                                  *



Tuesday, 15 May 2018

(Poetry) Trickling Down the Lines of Sight . . .





TRICKLING DOWN the lines of sight
Tear drops that run down windows
Falling past eyes that never asked for them
Nor ever dreamed they would be needed
Though nothing truly good was ever made
Without them

Even those which outwardly never emerged
But were locked inside
Were the secret channels of true perception
Lines of sight that could come no other way

Though we tried every other means
And went through every outer-part of knowledge
There was no other way that worked so well as sorrow
The un-thanked for gift---the other side of joy

           
                         
                       *



      The Waking Part

I SHAN’T put off today the waking part
Of what I should have done yesterday---
The capturing of the live coal
In the brisk undoing-thing
That walked across my soul

I can’t hold back the lighted break
Within the in-depth forest
Of the half-forgotten fears
Of my tormented mind

The littlest of sorrows
Can hold the greatest treasures
For the joy that I was given to perceive them




                                    *



Monday, 14 May 2018

The Streams of Beginning . . . Arkiahh Dreaming; Volume Three . . .




The land ends and the water falls
All my trying gone my spirit upward soars---
The needed thing its lack attracts
All my asking done its beginning comes

I have it for a moment and it’s gone
I dance inside and prismed light
Pours through my veins

The love which wrestles my pool of lights
Time in a kaleidoscope of coloured glass---
The wheel which turns my light to dark
A patterned picture forms of brokenness

I dance inside and prismed light
Pours through my veins---
I have it for a moment and it’s gone

The moon descends the nightlight changes
My light darkens as my sight’s replaced---
The sun ascends the daylight brightens
His light broadens as my sight lightens

I have it for a moment and it’s gone
I dance inside and prismed light
Pours through my veins



              *



Aligned in Rows



Aligned in rows the seeds were sown
In cryptic lines of fallow furls of earth

And only those that grew in dark
Found life in death and from the earth
Rose in words of living light in rows of flesh
And flourished there---
All those whose words were not their own---
Until in time they fell--- the full head of wheat
And worked a rising thing--- of life complete

In circled secrets the sower sows his seed
Aligned in rows in ever deepening lines of sight
In fallow furls of earth in cycled turns of life and death 



   
                                      *


Alone---in the unknown of light
Fearless in wisdom---un-crowded

Dark closed caves in mountains
Bright lit caverns in hills---
Places of inner myth and legend
And the uncomfortable holds
Of knowledge few would treasure

Where the tears of heaven flow
From the ruts in the road
And the hollows in the sea

Where there is space
There is hope of a pouring-in
Where there is space in me
There is room for grief

You have taught me what space is
And I learn of you
How to let you make it in me
Everywhere

Where there is none
I cannot be lonely
And without being lonely
I cannot fathom the gifted depths
You have given me to roam

Yet so lonely am I
One vast ocean of it in me

So much loneliness
Room in me for third-sense
And sensitivity, like nothing else



                            *

A Splay of Light


A SPLAY OF LIGHT in an assembly of letters
Prisms in shining rain taking form in a book
All that was poured in one falling of sunshine
A shaping of radiant life light as a feather

A fortuitous beacon from an arbour of booklight
Isles in written rain building lands in leaves         
All that was shining in a breaking of heartlight
A sculpting of sacred life bright as fire




                                      *


There For Me To Find

THERE FOR ME to find when I first looked:
The light in the thing there . . .
As I bent down

Too many distractions and it was lost:
The choicest part of the beautiful thing . . .
I came across

Insufficient in wait-full attention
And I miss the cyclic gleam . . .
In what could have been

The turning part of the insistent enigma      
That would have told me . . .
Had I paused

Beauty in the hidden airs of today
The underneath . . .
Which I nearly reached

The awaited-for . . . there to find me          
Would surprise me in the pause of time        
Would tell . . . as I came there . . .
Close by . . .   
Light!

                                      *