Tuesday, 15 May 2018

(Poetry) Trickling Down the Lines of Sight . . .





TRICKLING DOWN the lines of sight
Tear drops that run down windows
Falling past eyes that never asked for them
Nor ever dreamed they would be needed
Though nothing truly good was ever made
Without them

Even those which outwardly never emerged
But were locked inside
Were the secret channels of true perception
Lines of sight that could come no other way

Though we tried every other means
And went through every outer-part of knowledge
There was no other way that worked so well as sorrow
The un-thanked for gift---the other side of joy

           
                         
                       *



      The Waking Part

I SHAN’T put off today the waking part
Of what I should have done yesterday---
The capturing of the live coal
In the brisk undoing-thing
That walked across my soul

I can’t hold back the lighted break
Within the in-depth forest
Of the half-forgotten fears
Of my tormented mind

The littlest of sorrows
Can hold the greatest treasures
For the joy that I was given to perceive them




                                    *



Monday, 14 May 2018

The Streams of Beginning . . . Arkiahh Dreaming; Volume Three . . .




The land ends and the water falls
All my trying gone my spirit upward soars---
The needed thing its lack attracts
All my asking done its beginning comes

I have it for a moment and it’s gone
I dance inside and prismed light
Pours through my veins

The love which wrestles my pool of lights
Time in a kaleidoscope of coloured glass---
The wheel which turns my light to dark
A patterned picture forms of brokenness

I dance inside and prismed light
Pours through my veins---
I have it for a moment and it’s gone

The moon descends the nightlight changes
My light darkens as my sight’s replaced---
The sun ascends the daylight brightens
His light broadens as my sight lightens

I have it for a moment and it’s gone
I dance inside and prismed light
Pours through my veins



              *



Aligned in Rows



Aligned in rows the seeds were sown
In cryptic lines of fallow furls of earth

And only those that grew in dark
Found life in death and from the earth
Rose in words of living light in rows of flesh
And flourished there---
All those whose words were not their own---
Until in time they fell--- the full head of wheat
And worked a rising thing--- of life complete

In circled secrets the sower sows his seed
Aligned in rows in ever deepening lines of sight
In fallow furls of earth in cycled turns of life and death 



   
                                      *


Alone---in the unknown of light
Fearless in wisdom---un-crowded

Dark closed caves in mountains
Bright lit caverns in hills---
Places of inner myth and legend
And the uncomfortable holds
Of knowledge few would treasure

Where the tears of heaven flow
From the ruts in the road
And the hollows in the sea

Where there is space
There is hope of a pouring-in
Where there is space in me
There is room for grief

You have taught me what space is
And I learn of you
How to let you make it in me
Everywhere

Where there is none
I cannot be lonely
And without being lonely
I cannot fathom the gifted depths
You have given me to roam

Yet so lonely am I
One vast ocean of it in me

So much loneliness
Room in me for third-sense
And sensitivity, like nothing else



                            *

A Splay of Light


A SPLAY OF LIGHT in an assembly of letters
Prisms in shining rain taking form in a book
All that was poured in one falling of sunshine
A shaping of radiant life light as a feather

A fortuitous beacon from an arbour of booklight
Isles in written rain building lands in leaves         
All that was shining in a breaking of heartlight
A sculpting of sacred life bright as fire




                                      *


There For Me To Find

THERE FOR ME to find when I first looked:
The light in the thing there . . .
As I bent down

Too many distractions and it was lost:
The choicest part of the beautiful thing . . .
I came across

Insufficient in wait-full attention
And I miss the cyclic gleam . . .
In what could have been

The turning part of the insistent enigma      
That would have told me . . .
Had I paused

Beauty in the hidden airs of today
The underneath . . .
Which I nearly reached

The awaited-for . . . there to find me          
Would surprise me in the pause of time        
Would tell . . . as I came there . . .
Close by . . .   
Light!

                                      *





Saturday, 12 May 2018

Push Back Your Chair . . .




PUSH back your chair. Cross to the window. Open look out.

The life of things bursting, moving, near and far outside
Birds are singing their heads off
In innumerable trees
Imaginary doves moaning away in them like mad

Sailing threads of light . . . leaving . . . entering . . .
Wreathing their intricate forms of what was wanted
As you look . . .

In a new vision nearly born
New air creating what you cannot fathom yet
But hoped for . . .
Offered upon the breeze of wishful thoughts . . .
Waiting, like music, blind, and almost touching
But not heard yet . . .
All ragged tapers, leaping flames from strands of flax
They, rise, shoot out, ideas burning in your central mind

But from the heart, they form, needing only a single flash
The fingerprints of life were on everything you touched
In every whirling line life’s dabbling finger writing

Push back your chair. Cross to the window. Open look out.




                                           *





Direction . . .
Given every moment but not seen
Strong and enduring direction
Passion alive in my hiding midst
The Lodestone in my heart
His compass pointing my pathway home

Carried on the Wind . . .
The wind vane turning south
Pointing to dancing as the way . . .   
Freedom and the way home dancing . . .
And how I find it in the dark
Letting go and being taken




                               *




Monday, 7 May 2018

Seeing With Your Eyes Shut . . .




  
The wind roars
Tears down the tree---
A slain thing seeming dead
But appearances are deceitful

What you cannot see or sense
In what your eyes see
Tells the most
Tells the greater truer thing

Seeing with your eyes shut
Find the way
And the torn down thing
Made whole
And the greater gift



                          *



We see---and yet---we do not see---
We see with our eyes open
We see not---and we see---
Our eyes shut to our own perception---
Open to one greater---
Eyes within eyes and a new world entered




                  *



Tricking Down the Lines of Sight


Trickling down the lines of sight
Tear drops that run down windows
Falling past eyes that never asked for them
Nor ever dreamed they would be needed
Though nothing truly good was ever made 
Without them

Even those which outwardly never emerged
But were locked inside
Were the secret channels of true perception
Lines of sight that could come no other way

Though we tried every other means
And went through every outer-part of knowledge
There was no other way that worked so well as sorrow
The un-thanked for gift . . . the other side of joy

           
                         
                       * 




Falling Through the Daylight  

Falling through the daylight
And taking me with it---
The breathing streams of your love
That through eternity, touch the very marrow
Of my earthly existence, lifting me nearer
Clasping me closer, giving me the all of life
That I might never be parted from you
Never having left your side---
Not since there was ever any beginning---
All my breathing done for me in me
Before ever I was made

         


                                    *




Saturday, 5 May 2018

In the Hollow of Every Hill . . .



   
In the hollow of every hill
There was ingress
In the cradle of every cloud
Was the door
From the echo in the world that
Held the key
Could be known the entering
In-ways of the light

In the hill that is my hardship
Came my help
In the cloud that wore me constant
Was my sight
All nature’s things around me
Were my gifts
They told me all I needed
Which was life

For every ill there was
A cure
For every heartache there was
A Joy
For every mystery that ever
Caught me
I’ve known a welcome
Could be found inside it


                                *



At dusk the dew settles on the ground
Moistens my fields                             
Inspiriting hope in them

The sun sinks below the sky-edge
And satisfies the heart

Upward my seeing eyes are lifted
By the pull of it
Till---by its careful capturing
Sight loses this---
Its first sky---for the second
And the merely straight
For a life that flies
  


*


At daybreak the dew lies still
Upon my fragrant herbs
Sparkles in their silver songs

The sun rises above the sky-edge
And delights the lark

Upward its listening heart is drawn
By the light of it---
Till---by some endless enclosing
Sense loses this---
Its first reaching soul---for spirit
And---second sight---
And the merely straight
For a life that twirls as it flies




   *





Thursday, 3 May 2018

I Don't Ask for a Life of Ease . . .




I don’t ask for a life of ease or beg a crust
Nor do I ask for that which will profit me
But will take from me instead profiting another
For a poured-out life I yearn---more---I plead
That the life in my depths be as the source of a star
For what would one be in this world other than a light?
If life was not as a burning beacon it was nothing

If I could ask for what I long, it would be this
To be a spring---from which others could drink
And be replenished
To be bread---from which any may happily eat
And be strengthened
To be a voice---such as any who hear it might rejoice
And find fit company in inimitable loneliness

Not only am I fit to give when I am strong
But when I am weak
This is my hope then that strength be not my own
For this alone works miracles

Any influence of love is as much to be felt
In the hard black ebb tides of life
As in sunlit days upon the flood:
The same pull that takes the sea returns it

If strength through weakness could be received
For faith and hope in these few childish words
Then would I be full and my lifework done




                                      *  


                    

Wednesday, 2 May 2018

Out of Sequence Light Dabbles in Daydreams . . .




Out of sequence light dabbles in daydreams
Taking random memories sparked by parallels
And giving new substance to them
Forming further doors of inner insight
Out from of its own ceaseless ability
To roam every nook and cranny of my own existence
Past---present---and even future

In no order, that I can see, light revels in discoveries
At any time or place appearing before my inner mirror
A bouquet of thought-blossom from a basketful of days
All growing things, memories, caught below memory
And a scrapbook of happening-life---happening

One stray strand of its fleeting light could make a book
One memory resurfacing could weave a labyrinth
Of current things, captured, even the counting-fall---
In a flow of thought swimming in gold
Sweeping through the tunnels of my mind
Where heavenly things merge with earthly
In a seamless happenstance---if I looked deeper

Light makes me, ‘me,’ out of a myriad cast of dreams
Playing the best---the fiercest shinings of selfless-love
Falling from a collection of memories---all treasure caught
And a deeper insight working---in their further parallels
A mirrored wisdom-light shading things in beauty



                                                          *