(Poetry/ Vol. 1.) The Unknown Language . . . from THE RAGGED WRITINGS OF EVERLAND . . .

The Unknown Language

If found twice alive by faith in love alone

And my own self my own enemy

Then was my dragon slain

Of one stone in one single stroke---

And taking up of serpents with no hurt

If found twice freed by faith in love alone 

By drinking the deadly thing alone

And myself, my own enemy

There was inner health and wellness

The drink which killed my dragon: Life

If found twice alive by first finding I was fallen 

Made my own enemy I am my loving friend

Then were my soiled garments sold for a sword

My hoarded goodness, my filthy rags the price

A sword of discerning for deceitful clothing

In Everland’s fire the Life found twice alive 

New minds and hearts breathing only love

There was the unknown language spoken

A deciphering of Life with new lips

The gifted sequence bound in unveiling lines

The stars cannot be seen where I can see

Out of darkness came the casting up

There the pulling of truth from offence

Light on old spoiling things and they fled 

I break and my shadows flee away

Seeing in light the stars which my eyes cannot see

And the flying through in the undoing of me                        

I see what I cannot see and truth made free is spoken

There this liveliness of speech in a clay chalice

And a pouring out of knowledge in a rain of stars

Turn, my beloved, my bruised heart is broken 

Let me fall upon the mountains of spices 

A Wisp of Air

Encased within the travelled chest a treasure rare

Of un-pillaged plunder wrapped in coats of skins

The key the map the compass for the find were there

In Everland hid the fragrant heart at one with love

Script in sand engraved through fire in glass

Carried timeless in its purse, its secret fold of words

Engrafted life encoded there, in living jars of clay

As see-through as a wisp of air in nothingness clad

A stone was thrown and broken light spilled out

Of a perfect fashioner the hurt of every jar

How else escaped the light, that left buried deep would die

If scattered only by a tear it could forge of life its seal

Of each season borne the life produced twelve fruits

Green leaf in drought, up-springing joy in dearth

Living letters inscribed inside in every hue of gold

And shades of shadows left, went no more right through

Belts that tie the windless horn to its strength

Held in dust the captured message from the dawn of time

Bound in glory wrapped in living skins of hope

Cords of love the tie that kept the unfathomed dust afloat  

Within the sea of life the hidden script was laid

A sword to grind the jars their light in dust to leave

Pride lost, then on every hill a thing of freeing praise 

And the more did broken open letters fly in scrolls of flesh

The Saga of Amethyst Poetry / Part Ten: The Losing to Find

     It was all and only through the artist and poet being as nothing: as open to the winds of the Spirit to blow through them as though they weren’t there; no impermeable bodies of knowledge barricading against things new. The future of creative expression, in all fields, was as dynamic as we were prepared to let it be. Although it would seem to go against our common sense the key to development wasn’t to hold on, but to let go.

     To experience currents of air sweeping through you, you had to be in the air. To find spiritual things you had to live and move and have your being in the Spirit. In every place where the mountain river was, the water was running. In every steep place where we were tipped out, life was flowing. Staying in love the night shone for us as the day; there were our treasures. For as pearls are found inside oysters, so is light found inside darkness: where we didn’t say we knew, we saw.

     It was through our weakness we grew in strength; through brokenness we found love, deep and unfathomable. There the ever increasing passion to communicate what was seen in the mirror lake of tears. Through the tunnel, then the reflecting back of the light all upside down, and inside out! For the light was as darkness to us, all incomprehensible: it was opposite to the way of the world!

     But, in all this back-to-front living – the losing to find – we were helped. Behind the scenes deep in our innermost being things are happening there opening us up . . . which, if we are courageous enough, will eventually emerge, bringing the reward of an extraordinary and entirely individual, unimagined joy!  

 'All really new ideas have a certain aspect of foolishness when they are first proposed.’                                                                                                                                        - Alfred North Whitehead                    

                                                                                       

 ‘People are open to new ideas...as long as they are identical to the old ones.’                            - Ancient Chinese Proverb 

              

A Ring of Love

He has taken me with a snare, a ring of love

And broken me when I fell stumbling

He has taken me with a fish trap

A tangled web of passion

And peeled me when I surrendered

He has opened me with sunlight, and filled every gap

He has seen me with moonlight, and tipped me out

He has chosen me with a circlet, a ring-knife of swiftlight

And cut me in twain, torn down all my walls

He has chosen me in the furnace of affliction

And set me amongst the fiery stars

Not any hurt can harm me, nor any terror shake me

With their silent speech with the circle of their sound

He has married me to the Songs of Wales

Made of ever-living roads, I am

Yet, before ever they were, the rising wells

With the lucent shore with the amaranthine rocks

He has married me to the Tidal Sea

Made of mortal flesh, I am

Yet of Spirit overawed and overflowed