Here speaking of experience, embroidered with poetry,
Of that point on the path, that looming peak
That is all dark.
One cannot see, even themselves
As they tread continuously, for one can do nothing else.
The silence of forms, their shadowless edges,
They speak not through light, nor echo one's pledges,
Yet the path is climbing, and one is eager still,
It is not a falling way, not an abyss that will swallow you.
One is led through fate to the point of that peak,
And has nowhere else to go, and all is bleak.
One has trodden through night among everything,
No leads, no clues, just the faith in one's heart,
Like an arrow, leading to that point,
That high and dark peak of...
And then, when the foot has risen, and there remains nowhere else to place it,
Then She says:
A single word, of no ordinary speech,
This speech cuts through all shadow, all the visible darkness.
All that is hidden from view in the darkness,
Is now seen to be of little import;
Empty clouds drifting over an empty landscape.
Who does this fashioned world serve?
For what purpose, when with a single word of Hers,
It becomes a yesterday,
And she stands there, holding her hand for mine,
Asking me to take it, and fly.
That flight of soaring sight and the movement absolute;
The return to the ever-present Origin-Song,
That has never ceased singing its way,
Though we often forget to hear it.
So was I, stumbling in belief upon shadows of little import,
Treading their course to nowhere such,
Yet She knew I wanted Her,
and She is kind.
She provided that path, whereby,
To the world of shadow would I die,
And be reborn in light.
The unseen speaks and acts only upon the surrendered soul,
One who is given to the magic of Her,
The sacred-union of soul
To Her deep ancestral power,
That has ever-rippled across our small ages and worlds,
To us so huge they are, private make-believes.
Do we ever question, even as a whole collection of people,
Our make-believes of this and that, of money and rank and duty
To keep the shadows going, feeding themselves fatly.
We are dark in vision, blind until we can see what cannot be seen;
We are lame in motion, powerless, though we dream we have power,
Until we can move the unmovable,
Until we can catch Her attention,
Her unyielding gaze upon us directly,
Which can be tumultuous at times,
And accept That.
For the faint or false of heart cannot withstand
Pure love without great change.
For She, in her gaze an unobstructed beauty-sight
That will not accept the illusions we tell Her,
But will love us with truth regardless,
She will bring to our heart pure love,
An eternal song of Spring deep within.
Can we bring Her mercy upon us?
For we seem so locked in place,
Fashioning ourselves as slaves to our dream-world,
What power in this? Are we dreamed or dreamer?
Whose dream do we dream?
She understands our dream journey and its needs,
Yet with a simple gesture called death, She dissolves all that,
So easily does it fade then.
And then, what of money? what of rank? and duty to shadows?
What then do we trust?
For the wise do say, that the mystic death must be chosen freely,
So that the body's death becomes freedom and not a pit
To run away from all of one's life,
To build empires with, to abuse family and friends, to drown in wealth with,
To create heart-layers of guilt, and regret, and fears, and searing pain and anger,
Over what? Over death, that deep yet simple passage to infinity?
Dreams and Reality,
Either way it is Her,
And one is wise to surrender,
And hear Her singing nonetheless.
For She is everything, all of Nature and beyond,
Call it what you may.
And what sensitive silent soul cannot but find themselves in Her,
In the layers of meaning-rich Nature,
The endless geometry of a golden perfection shone through wisdom-form,
The meandering maze of wonder, the welcoming balance of true reason and sanity,
The keys to our heart, our soul, the keys to our world.
And that place we call the developed world, that is the lock, barred and
Screaming for a key.
Complete and never-enough.
A dance to yesterday, afraid of now,
Avoiding the unlimited All.
We build petty triumphs for petty rewards,
And a few galactic years makes nothing of it.
For the reason bred amongst us, is un-natural, un-questioned, complex and dominating.
It does not know itself, only its ways.
It barks vulgar and ugly,
Explaining that it is worth something,
And the wind rarely responds to confirm it.
While Nature; complete beauty, most reasonable of visions.
I have seen both sides of the bridge, travelled back and forth many times,
And none would want but that beauty; having glimpsed it
The soul finds peace.
The dream unravels and is seen as such,
Beauty unravels the dream
Poetry of form, clear in the seen,
As waterfalls glide through ancient memories
In Her music,
And that music dances oneself into the waking of eternity.
What better way to live,
Than under lock and key?
But screaming and silenced souls sit in dark places, cut and mourning
For a self that is but a dream.
And knowing Nature, I feel, I feel complete, and feel compassion,
For the plight of the lost
In shadowed dreams.
So I seek to show that beauty infinite,
To map a tale of rhythm absolute,
To bask mine eyes in the soul of the Sun and speak.
And I care not for convention,
Other than to give respect to the folly of the world.
The language of humanity but one syllable on the scale of creation,
Of time in a sphere of dream,
What but all else is equally real?
Ruts of reason dying to the vast,
How can such powerless flows last,
In the face of the beauty and terror all around,
In the face of the welcoming smile of the sacred.
She holds the keys and the locks,
The rest, we all dream.
Can we wake to Her,
And walk with Her,
And share sweet lives of soul-enlightenment throughout her paradise.
Ships of enlightened society shall sail over the edges of our world,
Into Reality inclusive;
This endless universe and all that lives.
Trust, and so shall it be.
I'd really like feedback on this one.