I part the dawn with trembling fingers
Tentatively reaching for the pieces of my soul surrendered in fear
Atoms realign, beloveds kiss upon my damp face
Constant despite my malingering and tendency to keep falling
When I yearn for unification with the gleaming beauty of the stars
Remembering is sweet torture, rupturing dark tendrils of devolution
That threaten to drown hope in a sticky blackness of suffering
Yet this is what it means to be real among humanity
To let the diamond soul fracture in sunlight and remain
A beacon of truth unravelled as we descend and re-ascend…
Descend and re-ascend.
A smile, a supernova of bliss, as I embrace myself newly whole and utterly in love
At the still point of the turning world. Neither flesh nor fleshless;
Neither from nor towards; at the still point, there the dance is,
But neither arrest nor movement. And do not call it fixity,
Where past and future are gathered. Neither movement from nor towards,
Neither ascent nor decline. Except for the point, the still point,
There would be no dance, and there is only dance.
I can only say, there we have been: but I cannot say where.
And I cannot say, how long, for that is to place it in time.
T.S Eliot (1952), excerpt from The Four Quartets ‘Burnt Norton’
Your name is round in my mouth, soft, sensuous. I keep it inside; quiet, private, for me, only. Slowly I trace the letters of you within me. I want to rush, but not this time, this time I will savour. Your name is safe with me; I will never speak it harshly, with malice or recklessly associate it with fears affiliates. I will speak it with honesty, passion, and the tempered real. When you are here with me I will whisper your name a hundred times, a hundred different ways, but that is not yet, for now I hold you selfishly in my mouth, reverently, tasting your lush beauty and relishing that you choose my name too.
Sleep escaped me. Exhausted I sought her with desperation yet she fled me amused. Words that had been pent up, bound by circumstance, eager for freedom burst forth laughing, cohering with sleep, defying my ability to close my mind. Do not expect a miracle I am all out of those as I reach beyond for a beauty sensed but misplaced, lucid at the edge of the dream world, asleep within the real. I reach for hope in her glorious flight, yet find faith, strangest of creatures to taste today. Deep within me an infant galaxy stirs misplacing time as I walk resurrected holding hands with courage we talk of distant suns and a past remade. As finally my eyes close they are kissed awake by loving sun and I pass into dreaming my life.
Gratitude as a way to walk with others
Beneath the heavy weight of life I learn to swim, I feel the changing tides of sentiment and dance with them. I hear the beloved in every word and speak only of truth and gratitude. Harsh realities soften in waters well tamed, words heard slower so the real is touched not ego. Change is easier submerged in the waters of life; remember the heartbeat that called you into being, the sounds of the world smoothed by the body of the mother who bore you. Fallen we forget and taste bitterness. Fallen we loose sight of the beauty we knew before we were, before we were not. Fall into the deep embrace of the beloved see into the reflection, not Narcissi but the true.
At times, when I stop listening I hear them. If I listen forcefully I hear only harsh critic. If I quiet myself the whisper becomes clearer, almost song. Noise crowds them out with hate and malice. I know they are there the dark ones that draw me from myself, and the beautiful that invite me into myself. My soul a metronome, rhythmically tuning between the poles; between the lost and found; between the ache of love and the sting of loneliness; between the nonsensical and the sublime; between faith and fear. Paradoxes all. As the light and the dark, neither one without the other in this strange haunting land. Yet I hear them, the distant stars, the grains of sand; they sing of each breath as a chance to taste heaven within this world.