Wheels within wheels, time within times where was no time, moving in four directions all at once . . .

Wheels Within Wheels

TIME within times where was no time

Wheels within wheels

Moving in all four directions, at once

Where the fruit of perfect answers were

Priceless returns of lost things found

The heart’s first dream and least hope 

Was seen and held there---

In all the pear tree’s travels to distant places

In other times

Ground by windmill stones beside the sea

Those tiny pips in pairs the pear tree grew

My answers lost and found

Made bread and meat

And I saw what it meant to be loved in the Lover

Taken with him there---where life was---

Crushed and bruised for the food of life

 

                                       *

                                               Illustration from: Volume Three: The Ragged Writings of Everland; 'Arkiahh Dreaming' 

A Book is like a Well of Water

A book is like a well of water . . .

A force of scripted life to draw from:

A wide oasis found, artesian rising,

Crystal lit in pools of unravelling thought

A quenching dream, clear flowing deep,

A cup of wealth into which I dip;

Water into wine its unveiled surprise

Captured life, and its gift of inner joy in me

Poem from a Sequence:

A Rain of Booklight
Part 1  # 31

© Judith Evans Deverell, 2014  

The Bookmark Project

A Book is like a Scented Garden

  

A book is like a scented garden 

A fragrant blossomed bower

An arbour rare, a secret meeting place

To curl up in, to dream and read

Its life, a theme in me that slowly opens out:

Grows the wisdom seeds within, it lightly sows;

Its pages set a wall around absorbing thought

A deeply planted garden, filled with flowers

Poem from a Sequence:

A Rain of Booklight
Part 1  # 24

© Judith Evans Deverell, 2014

The Bookmark Project

A Rain of Booklight

 Where next? What follows night?

Through a mist I wander onward

Through a maze of lowering cloud

Not knowing if I’m right or wrong

Or where I am going

Trusting blind to the inner vision

Alive to the lonely dream alone

Where next? What could I write?

That any hear what I want to say

A rain of booklight is in me

A pouring of oil but against the grain

Let me tip it out, find my way not knowing

A torrent through any subject flows

Bending light in day it fits through all

Poem from a Sequence:

A Rain of Booklight

From, A Book is like a Sacred Isle:

“A Book about Books”

© Judith Evans Deverell, 2014

The Star's Still There

We were so nearly there

For further fly all our cherished aspirations 

Than we could ever imagine

Our bright hopes

Though they be only thought and so briefly seen

Have breath and life                                                         

                                                         

What we once conceived of virtue and true living

Of beauty beyond all our fondest dreams

That which came so close and was so real awhile  

Went softly streaming by

Veiled in silken clouds and airy wine

Oh, but we were so nearly there  

We felt the flicker of life’s wings

Living things brushed past

But reaching out to touch

We lost

Oh, had we only known then

How to enter in  

But before we knew it

The vision had slipped on by and fled us

What had seemed so possible was now only a dream

And, oh, the emptier we felt for having seen

But no bright purpose was ever lost that once has been 

Truth’s star’s still there! 

As deep inside as it is above 

Where night’s endless light is                                                      

                                                      

Our mansion’s kept, our heart voice mapped

Upon Love’s palm our place

And the everlasting vision etched

Out held, kind, ever offering

Love’s hand is always there      

“We always may be what we might have been”