The Saga of Amethyst Poetry / Part Three: Springtime of Acceptance

     From the commencement of an inner springtime: my heart made transparent, I started writing poetry once more; and where I had left off. The sap rose again, and more powerfully for having endured such a harsh winter. Up through the fiery pillar, in the midst of me, ‘the force that through the green fuse drives the flower.’ * The issue of life out of death, light out of darkness, brought forth new uncurling ‘leaves,’ having torn my heart, even further apart. And now it seemed my writings were even harder to decipher; they were, perhaps, even more incomprehensible! But that was alright! It was alright! Delight washed over all I wrote, and I knew I was where I was meant to be – in the Unknown with God. Confidence revived. The door opened.

                                                                               

* (- Dylan Thomas.)

The Saga of Amethyst Poetry / Part Two: The Ragged Writings

 ‘The Ragged Writings of Everland:  A collection of poetic writing’

       A definition:  n. a 'ragged writing' is basically a poem rejected: being as it is an affront to the intellect, because the most used part of the mind can’t make much sense of it!

  An explanation: a piece of 'ragged writing' which upon first reading appears incomprehensible, will to the diligent searcher slowly render its secret treasure upon each subsequent reading; enlarging the faculties of the inmost being to taste and eat of a whole new kind of fare. If we will but let go the incessant demand of our intellect to understand something before we can enjoy it, we might develop the spiritual capacities that are within us instead – the ones which make us who we truly are – the exercise of which will bring a more satisfying reward than we could imagine.

      It is hard. But narrow a river and it will flow for you more swiftly. Over feeding the intellect has hindered the heart. Help a butterfly escape from its cocoon, and it dies. Its wings never develop.  It needed its struggle to fly.

    Read without wanting. Read as though being read, yourself. These writings are as looking-glass stones, reflecting back at you whatever you see in them. You could work them out, with some mental effort; or you could soak them in, with no effort at all; in both ways are treasures. Most of all you will discover, to your joy that you are given out of not demanding to understand.   

‘Everland:’

       A definition and explanation: Everland: the internal Land through which we ever journey onward, and always ‘further up and further in;’ her shores are as mystical as Avalon, and her waters as dark as Annwn in the elusive quest for the beyond; her interior as timeless and real, as heaven on earth.

A Ring of Love: an Extract from an Epic Poem

     The poem, A Ring of Love, is an extract from a much larger work, IN THE PATHS OF MYRDDIN WYLLT . . . a 9,400 word epic poem concerning the sixth century legendary Welsh bard and poet, Myrddin Wyllt; a forerunner of the famous Merlin of the medieval legends of King Arthur. More on this later! But the unpublished manuscript of this epic poem is available to those who would like to read it. (Contact author and request via email: 

 arielaevans@gmail.com ) 

      To reach out, to give beautiful words new every day from the inner wells, was my longing...words through an inner fullness speaking light. The outflow of living waters from the midst of me was unending; and I longed to share from out of the treasures of my experience the living truth which fires the creativity in my life. There was just so much to share. So much to tell of the beginnings of Amethyst Poetry. But before I could begin to unravel further the saga of my writing life, the following came, written today . . . 

Veiled Realms of Swiftlight 

Out of the things which were first, the greater part of purple palaces

Inner castles graced with ivory towers and the amaranth within

The amethyst flowerets mystic pale with milky light 

All fused with royal red and blue

Casting from the windows of my sight

The firstling things I have within

To speak instead in silent gems of the veiled realms of swiftlight

Of the breaking parts of faith that slowly fill with love and unravel here

Out of the things which were second, the amaranthine tumbling spires

From which my inner-writing banners flew

Out from my highest tower, my hooded tercel tossed skyward

Flung from a soft gloved hand

Set free to gather its beloved prey, and return to me the longed for news 

That, from afar they would hear and in that oneness promised

Draw near and I would know that from today 
I was not alone