Poetry: Vol. 2 / 212.) The Trees Knew . . .

  

The trees knew...

Their watering streams

Had told them of it...

Brightness in the air above

And all around

Fragrant breaths in the low dew

Of the ground...

A brief turbulence in jars of nectar

Breaking out in sweetness

Passing beyond any prickling...

The sting of death swallowed up

In new liberty

What had not entered mind

Had entered spirit... and the sign

Melting in the sunlight...

Was pouring through the forest

Hints of it playing in the music

The streams had gathered from

The air, the dew, and the nectar

Watering the living trees

Teaching them knowledge

Infusing them with the hid wisdom

It had come... it was there...

But still they could not see it

                 *

V. 2. / 161.) High Hang The Clouds . . .

High hang the clouds . . .

Mid spaced

Betwixt heaven and earth

They cover this day . . .

The sun from the ground

Hide the below from above

The earth from the sun

All breaks in the cloud . . .

Let the sunlight through again

All breaks . . .

In the thick skin of my pride

Let love’s light shine through

Again . . .

                          *

Stories in the Air

Standing on a hilly place writing stories in the air

Flying lines in purple pencils loosed through all the trees

Weaving love in lingering leaves kept as sunlight enters:

Telling things of lifted-life found all around about me!

Takings of the swiftlight wading through the dew grass

Filling brooks of brimming joy up amongst the airy trees

Inscribing peace in whispered song freed as lightening enters

Telling things of ardour inner met, matched of its outer!

Running on a hilly place writing stories in the air

Weaving life in latticed light found in silver folds

Redemptions of my stinging things, my stories all reborn

The former things my bridges crossings to the new!

                                       * 

Honeysuckle drippings from wild ginger flowers 

Sticky with nectar in their seepings of sweetness

All as plentiful in stories as the peace lily plant

These newly formed emergings from my purple horizons

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?

   

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