These Things Concur . . .

THESE THINGS concur. . .

A concurrence of two things happening

At the same time

And relating . . . thought responding to thought . . .

To a circuit which produces

An output pulse . . . only when both

Its input terminals

Receive pulses within a specified interval

Same frequency . . . a circuit between two people

Writer and reader

When both create pulses . . . in the same circuit

At the same time . . . in a certain period . . .

There is an output of energy . . .

Because this coincidence of qualities

Produces a coincidence of states of mind . . .

And . . . reader and writer . . . co-create . . .

What we think of as intuition

Is actually a strong signal in the circuit

And from him who had made it possible . . .

Reciprocal life . . . one is asking . . . the other giving . . .

And the one giving is asking, too, and being heard, receives

                                      *

- From:  ARKIAHH DREAMING; The Ragged Writings of Everland; Volume 3

The Feathered Veil . . .

Then there was the beauty  

Of the Thing that surrounded---

That had taken the vacated places

In the wall---the encircling veil---

The hid diamond-lights within love’s glory

That came there---where once our dark parts were

And which worked together---

Past all vestiges of earthly capabilities---

Like so many finely interlocking feathers

For our wings

Wings---

Which would have such an unearthly beauty

That they would, of course, have

Only the quality of dream about them---

One was always afraid they might

Suddenly melt away---

Dissolve into thin air--- but--- then---

That was good---

They had already let one through to the other side

And to the whiteness behind confusion

And to the Thing that was there---

That was love--- even as an ‘orbed drop of light’

In which we ever dwelt---

Knowledge of it--- was everywhere written

In the visible world all around one---

Words in everything created by the Word

With the brightness of singing in it, in invisible sound

                                       *

-From:  ARKIAHH DREAMING; The Ragged Writings of Everland; Volume 3

The Ports of Annwn . . .

The City of Forests and the wandering through the

Dark realm of earth and the tangling work of trees

Till we find the way to part from the place of clay

Lift away the sticky clasp for the freedom of the sea

The City of Water and the passing through the sea of

Changing forms and from one to another, where torn

A moving born of leaving safety for truer being, and

Further destined drawn beyond earth’s soul for spirit

The City of Wealth and the waking amidst the realm of

Love’s bounty where boundless riches found to enter

Everywhere, to all there was, though little understood,

Enough of light’s own fractioned facets sinking further

The City of Troubles and the new wealth entering in with

Great frustration not knowing yet the golden light in dark

Till to life aware, maintains full love with determined heart

Learning to leave dim ease and overcomes self-centred self

The City of Joy and the drinking deeply of new riches won

Sorrow’s own glad rejoicing in every trouble overturned

Life’s glorious celebration in all one learned in suffering

Ever turning upon the inner pivot that crossed one out

The City Four-Walled and found were wheels within wheels

The four compass points all-seen, four directions all at once

All things bound as one, as all love’s winds blend together

Understanding all there is to know in knowing nothing

The City of Gold and the inmost part of perfection found

Clear as glass, the molten gold, the heart’s gifted inner path

Life’s final victory won: one’s spirit laid the footstool of love

Pure golden lands, looking out beyond love’s new possibilities!

                                              *

Through all the seven ports of Annwn: the Celestial City

In decreasing: the progression from one realm to the next

The inner doors to that we looked for: all hid in dark

The light which called us: the beauty of the truth we feared

                                                                                 *

                 - From:  ARKIAHH DREAMING; The Ragged Writings of Everland; Volume 3

The Retaining Wall of Love . . .

The endless circling light

Unyielding as any retaining wall 

Inexorable--- love surrounding us always

Inevitable--- love pervading all things  

But in which we saw so many dark spots

As could make up the jaded coat of a leopard!

And all the time those spots

Which were not entered and found out

Were still there darkening our life

Yet, they, the base ore containing diamonds!

And the only way jewelled light

Could ever be presented to our conscious mind

As the light which shone in darkness

Our grim spots refused were lost to us

And we were all the poorer the more we went on

Shutting our eyes and being uninterested

In the most interesting thing ever! 

How stupid never to think of lifting off

Our leopard’s skin--- looking underneath

Turning on our lamp for a happier sight of

The holes in our wall

To see what was really in those places---

Glory! The White Light behind them

Which linked us to the Thing beyond!

But we rebelled against it---

Found fault with it--- refused it--- rejected it as

So unpleasant we wanted nothing to do with it---

When all the time it was what we were needing!

Opportunities for joy--- the spots--- a gift, but rare  

Full of openings to awe--- did we but know it---

Yet all disguised as something to hide from

But daring us to come hither

Laughing at us that we did not recognize

When we’d been given a jewel!

It was a matter of taking each stroke of life

Each rough spot--- as a piece of discipline---

Offering us an opportunity--- unto the exercising 

Of persistent purity---

Or, whatever virtuous thing seemed to us

The most unpleasant, and stupid, at the time!

But then there was peace---

In the tranquility gained because of the spots

Then there was joy and celebration---

In the glad acceptance of all we couldn’t change 

                                    *

-From:  ARKIAHH DREAMING; The Ragged Writings of Everland; Volume 3

The Circling Endless Light . . .

The encircling endless light

Rings the earth

Surrounds each man

Yet its shafts its piercing fingers of love

To one is dark to the other light

Where we are and where we sleep

Seems not the same

But though we knew it not, in both

Love, most true, all-knowing, all-present

Peace, most comforting, all-power, all-joy

All around our fragile frame inside and out

The circling light, kept, preserved

Where we are hid inside our dark

The light of life is dark

Where we sleep unseeing outside our dark

No light, at all, no transforming life  

Not till entering in will we ever understand

Or know we never were alone

Until we’re made light endless love to us is dark

We’re back-to-front till turned around to

Perceive each point of penetrating trouble

In this sphere of life was clothed in dark:

In seeing not the glory-light in pain

The joy in sorrow till we drop inside  

             *

-From:  ARKIAHH DREAMING; The Ragged Writings of Everland; Volume 3

Created Out of Nothing . . .

WHAT WAS created out of nothing

Was full of everything

What was created out of love

Contained all that was needed---

Love is everything

Love---taking everything away---

But itself---

A book of answers in riddles--- 

Giving all of itself---to find them out

                                *

Where there is Space

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

                            *

The Thing That Will Be

IT TAKES its time

That thing that will be

That will be what it is in its time

All things are made beautiful

In their time

And above it and beyond it

If its essence is in my---now---

If its embryo is tucked away

In my inmost being---

Waiting---

I cannot wait for what isn’t partly mine---

Now---

If it wasn’t I couldn’t 

I would not have any idea of it---in me---at all

It is the foolish things of the world

Which were---chosen---to confound the wise

 *

-From:  ARKIAHH DREAMING; The Ragged Writings of Everland; Volume 3

Spun Light . . .

BEAUTY--- in silence--- Quiet in stillness---

Takes the lovely things of peace

And from their essence

Makes a thing of spun light float as feather-down

Leaving trails of itself in spiralling threads

Of exquisite thought

Come to steal away the dust of dullness

The dim of idleness--- and touch and illumine

The far reaches of my mind

I am lost in straight lines where I think in wise spaces

There are no curving meanings that enlighten

Where I know too much---

The things of haste become loquacious thieves

Where I speak long-winded forms of outward thought

 

They are not--- lifting--- these easier rambles      

That fill my common paths of well trodden concepts---   

They perform only the dry duties

Of the outskirts of existence--- that take no time

To understand--- the things that cannot be understood

Rather be lost for words 

Than have them marry too quickly

We are all the poorer for our many speeches

Enough that we have the glint of the thing

The sudden sparkle of the hiding diamond

More reflective light 
      Than we could ever see or know---  

Or turn to thought--- 

Dances on the twinkling sunlit sea

                                     * 

-From:  ARKIAHH DREAMING; The Ragged Writings of Everland; Volume 3