Endearing Enigma

Endearing Enigma

You who endure such endless rebuffs

You are my joy and my boundless comfort

I am fully enthused with unwinding your wonders

The more they unravel the more there are to unravel

And you grow bigger and smaller every day

The swathing of my senses comes in every hue of light

But I am blind inside my body shell –

Made that way

That my innermost being must grapple to know you

Your myriad colours your outrageous content

Yet only guess at what’s there            

Ever keeping me in pursuit

Sharpened of the quest to find out more

The inner drive to solve things far and difficult

Is not strange 

It is innate, we were born that way

Life’s image in us, we just copy him

That we should spend our entire lives exploring

And that there was no end to it

Is not strange

It was meant to be that way

You, our endearing enigma, you made it so

To keep us live

That there were worlds inside worlds

Everlasting

All waiting to be explored

Is easy

We were formed to find them

We were sought to seek them

We have been waited for

That this world around us, created even to be an enigma

Is your gift

In the first place

It keeps us going winds us as a timeless clock

Makes us brave to take the next step

Enjoy it with the others

That each one ‘go!’ and beyond the one before

Made to be that way

To go on finding what was to be found:

QUOD ERAT INVENIENDUM  

But that we should not here

Ever fully find that for which we sought

Is not sad

It is wonderful! 

Makes us like you, endearing enigma! 

Ever awaiting our coming ever having us come

In the Winds of the Spirit

The wind howls, but still the little bird sings on

Rain comes down in torrents

But still the little teller of truth writes and dies

It was all of love though they didn’t see it

The red paths strewn with ruby petals

The unwanted rose had led the way

But only at the end will they understand

And that only after a thousand years

The lions roar, but still the little thorn smiles on

Refusal comes down in force

But still the little candle shines and lives

Ever rolling pearls before the kindest of swine 

Ever hopeful the tide will turn and trees fall

That all might fit the sweetest prize of all  

But only at the end will they understand

And that only after a thousand years

                               *      

The wind warms, and the little bird sleeps

Rain comes down in drizzle

But the little singer of riddles sings no harm

Though they didn’t know it

All yellow paths strewn with baby babblings

For the milk and not the meat led the way in sleep

But only at the end will they understand

And that only after a thousand years

 

The kittens purr, and the little bird yawns

Acceptance comes down in applause

But the little trumpet is lost in the thickening dazzle

For awhile hiding pearls from the fairest of swine

Too afraid the tide won’t ever turn, or men fall

That all might find in loss their greatest joy of all

But only at the end will they understand

And that only after a thousand years

Jacob's Ladder and the Dead Tree

I went walking in the twilight

Where all was full and free

Where half the light was edged in sun

The other half in moon

The tide was flowing in and out

And on it, brought a tree 

Stark naked dead and bare, floating 

Its branches stuck up in the air

Wherever I turned to look

There a small dead tree

I saw dead trees – everywhere

And all along the harbour path

Four times I saw the barren thing

Beside the water’s edge

And four times I deeply wondered

What had become of me?

So strange to see a similar thing

Wherever I chanced to look

But I knew the heart of Love

Was speaking in me

Of all ascending and descending:

My spirit’s ‘spinal cord’

Jacob’s ladder there

As my own thoughts step up and down

My way first easy then is hard

But once I am perplexed

Then all easy once again

For where I didn’t know, I knew

Ever my own deceiver

My first name is in easy ways

Not liking hard I fall and rise

According to what I will of me, give up  

Only my understanding taken 

Can be brought to me anew

At the point I am split in twain:

Two-edged renewed

 

QUOD PETIS HIC EST:

What you seek is hard

That for which I ask:

The hardest thing of all!

To go against my lust for knowing

To set myself at nought

And to stay there

All in joy!

To step back from the easy way

To do nothing but believe

Oh, what I seek is hard

Hard!

To bear the affront

Of having my knowledge

Annulled 

And not to be sad!

To have only what I cannot see or touch

That in my dying live!

To gain the prize of life never won of self

What I seek is hard!

QUOD PETIS EST FACILE:

What you seek is easy

That for which I ask

It is the easiest thing of all!

To do nothing

That I might understand what I can’t

To do nothing but float in joy

Where I was nought!

To stand still in the hard way

To only believe it easy

What I seek is easy

Easy!

To delight in the sting

Of finding my knowledge squashed

To be happy in having the reality

Of only the seeming nebulous

To live in my dying

And of love receive a new name

What I seek is

Easy!

THE DEAD TREE SAILS ON . . .

Slowly Opens the Rose

Only slowly opens the Rose

Its petals unfold all imperceptibly 

Only by a steady keeping on

Does the invisible beauty work its wounding

Undoing all my shallows and more and more

As I press on and yield not to the littler press             

But exercise that gift which is within me

 

Only forcefully springs the shoot

Yet its substance pierces through all soothed       

Only by a persistent surrendering

Does the gentle upsurging work within me

Calming all my troubled points over and over

That they come through kind and unscathed

In the daily rising that I can not see rising

Only unthinkingly babbles the baby

Yet her voice emerges all of a strong desire 

Only by a doing I didn’t think in

Did life’s simplest gift work within me

Turning my unknowings into knowing

Transforming all my edged lines into sense

Till Another’s intelligence appeared 

Only bravely fledge the birds

Yet their feathers develop, all of a course

Only by faith that time will bring forth life

Does time’s own bravery work within me

Making of all my flights of fancy, messages:

And my firstling airy things, surpassed

Till lit at last, my former complex threads decode 

Only . . . Only . . . and the absolutes of paradox

Angled Perspectives

Carved cherry doors in crystalline insights

Castle prismed glimpses in blood red ripenings

Going of an inner fire, all blazing charged with red

And sliding by a former feelings’ captured things

Long held of sovereign battles up in shining spires

Mullioned windows in proud bearing spaces

Crestfallen testimonies in swift caught breezes

Flowing of an inner learning, all fused with green  

And passing by an earlier musing’s hoped for things

Fast kept in liquid runnings lining ivory towers

             

Angled perspectives caught in mirrored images

Shaped inverse lines in fragile coloured forms 

Growing of a higher thought, light all hued with blue

And floating by a summer-knowing’s precious things

Much preserved of warmer days in rounding heights

                         *

Wreathed in mystery’s keep the better part of knowing

All swathed in ruby words bright with emerald lines

Gained of broken pathways in all sapphire understandings

Amethyst Poetry / Writing Saga # 8 / The Holy Grail

 (This post follows on from  Writing Saga # 7 /The Holy Grail  )

   The Holy Grail, (sangreal, or, sangraal) has fascinated every generation for nearly two thousand years. It has been represented down through the ages by a variety of diverse objects, all portraying different aspects of one truth: namely, everlasting youth and eternal sustenance in the fearfully wonderful delight that there is to be had within a true and living, heart relationship with God.     

     The Holy Grail has been symbolized as:  a cauldron;  a cup;  a chalice;  a dish;  a platter;  a rock from a falling star;  a crown, or  a circlet, or, a severed head served on a platter. This last, strange, and most misunderstood representation of the Grail symbolized that it would be freedom from head knowledge which bound us, liberty from pinned down opinionated thought which restricts us, (as in the case of John, the Baptist) that would be the avenue to unspeakable joy and endless spiritual delight. Of course, every part of us was accepted and loved! Nothing of us was rejected! But here we were being informed of something greater than we had yet known a higher state of being, greater by far than any we had previously comprehended and which was to be cherished. This furtherest understanding of the Grail was available to the medieval scribes, clerics and monks who wrote of the battles and adventures of King Arthur, and his questing Knights who sought the Holy Grail with all their hearts. Deep within the heart of all humankind was a wondrous capacity, to witness to the inner glory of God, and, unknowingly to respond to the ineffable beauty of the crucified bittersweet.

These are the titles of the next four ragged writings of Amethyst Poetry:

The Star’s Still There

The Trees of the Field

 What Could I write?

 Deep Pools

Season of Alterings

How softly sang the wind in his dreamy silken music

Of a change in the heavens were the coils of men unwound

When one played upon a pipe ten others heard and wept 

When a hundred saw the light a thousand cried

As understanding alters so too the seasons of fish and birds

Of a change in the world were their cages opening

And all the winged little ones did swim away free

Too small to trap love’s tiddlers escaped man's horrid snare

As knowledge alters so too the seasons of men and trees

Of a change in the wind did their sap rise or fall

Where one tree bent double two others fell forward

Where four saw the light eight others were slain  

In joyous loss they held to nothing that could be seen

Of love were all free to go flying upon their falls

Lifted higher and higher the greater the descent

Of old judgments freed, all turned, changed about!

Uncurlings

In the hill was a song

Of its hiding place few knew

Of its silver shining content

All were unaware

None could ever guess what was there

Held in the life of a teacup storm

The hidden telling went unread

But of its many leaved uncurlings 

It solved all my muddles   

Yet none could see or understand

Or follow what was there

In the oyster was a pearl

Of its hiding place few knew

Of its glory-revealing fold

All were unaware

None could ever guess what was there

Held in the troubles of my heart

The hidden loveliness went unfathomed

But of its instant saving strength

It unravelled all my puzzles

Yet none could see or understand

Or follow what was there

  

From My Falling . . .

The more I lost, the more I found

And the more did broken-open letters fly

In coats of many colours

Brave autumn leaves of prismed sunlight

From my falling, loosed and freed

Sailing on this bright day’s breeze

To places far and wide

Would any traveler ever see them?

Find in them quintessential delight?

Would any seeker ever find this leaf 

And read it?

And discover to their pleasure

Their own heart’s hidden pearls

All wrapped in another language

Waiting to be found?

   

In the Light of Innocence

In the light of innocence

Things can be that aren't

Babes can outwit the weighty and

Where their foolish or imprudent things confound

Can there quite suddenly surprise the wise!

In the light of innocence

Things can turn inside out

And upside down

And there whole glories can be seen as flowers

Which before the wrong way round

Had been considered only weeds!

In the light of innocence

Improbable things can steal by

Real as butterfly wings

And there these strange fortuitous sightings

Appearing all impossible

Find all the more a certain appeal!

Oh for eyes of innocence

And a simpler heart

To go against the flow of the ugly, and predictive

The usual, the norm, and what we’re used to

And choose instead life’s inner gold

And the courage to be different!