Thursday, 5 July 2018

A Vision From Another Brighter World . . .




A VISION from another brighter world
Writing its history with such a contented air
Seeing and capturing the live things there
Coming in at hour when you didn’t think

Peace my warm hollow the place of heaven
Space and life at the end of not knowing too much
A full cup of it in not having any need
Not needing to fill in one’s own place

A roadway in a palace opening in a wilderness
Overflowing rivers in a desert making lakes of mirrors
People, falling in pictures of light with a gentle descent
Forming pathways of leaves leaving plans for escape




                                            *





Shopping For Daisies

SHOPPING for daisies . . .
Exchanging torn out pages
For a bit of praise . . .
It soon ends in depression
Leaves thrown back at you . . .
But the pool increases, deepens, darkens . . .
The well of the uprising replenished
For a greater shining

Pain the anvil the smith’s hammer pounds . . .
The discarded things fallen
Go swimming in water . . .
The worth of leaves breaking down
The fighter undaunted . . .
Word-trees in happy sadness being nourished
For a further outworking . . .
All leaf disappointments may be tucked under
Mulched . . .

The light in what will take you up
The life in what will bring you down
To fuel it
The decomposing in the down
The fertilizer for the up
And they are same



                                      *



In the Middle Distance


GETTING IT too plain
And there was an inevitable exactness
Like music ending

Even searching for it in a tree of bitter fruits
Was too exacting
They found edges too sharp again

Rosy dawns with dew lingering
The water not taken up yet and gone away
Something of it there . . .
If, that is . . .
They were there on time with the rising sun
And went with it

It all was in the spontaneity of lucid fingertips 
Touching keys in an unknown chord
And tapping out the tune with not any ending

Always stopping in time for tea
Endings of little fidget rivers



                                       *

- From:   ARKIAHH DREAMING; The Ragged Writings of Everland; Volume 3








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