"Poetry may make us from time to time a little more aware of the deeper, unnamed feelings which form the substratum of our being, to which we rarely penetrate; for our lives are mostly a constant evasion of ourselves."
-- T.S. Eliot
Even in the darkest moments of our lives, there lie hidden, often far from sight, cracks in the darkness, openings to joy and light.
"Poetry may make us from time to time a little more aware of the deeper, unnamed feelings which form the substratum of our being, to which we rarely penetrate; for our lives are mostly a constant evasion of ourselves."
i am a little church (no great cathedral)
far from the splendor and squalor of hurrying cities
—i do not worry if briefer days grow briefest,
i am not sorry when sun and rain make april
my life is the life of the reaper and the sower;
my prayers are prayers of earth’s own clumsily striving
(finding and losing and laughing and crying)children
whose any sadness or joy is my grief or my gladness
around me surges a miracle of unceasing
birth and glory and death and resurrection:
over my sleeping self float flaming symbols
of hope,and i wake to a perfect patience of mountains
i am a little church(far from the frantic
world with its rapture and anguish)at peace with nature
—i do not worry if longer nights grow longest;
i am not sorry when silence becomes singing
winter by spring,i lift my diminutive spire to
merciful Him Whose only now is forever:
standing erect in the deathless truth of His presence
(welcoming humbly His light and proudly His darkness)
Shadows dancing with light
as sun sings away the night.
Light seeks dark
and darkness light
Who leads
this phantasmagoric
dance of shadow and light?
Whirling round and round
Swirling, twirling
twisting, turning
helical rushing
rapidly spiraling
faster
ever faster
into
one
singularity
black-white blurs
to blue
to red
exploding rainbows
consume the sky
in iridescent
glow
Darkness gazes enthralled
into the eyes of light,
mirrored by light’s captivated
twinkling stare
into darkness
There, paper thin
between
it is only I
who divides
them to
TWO
The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you.
Don't go back to sleep.
You must ask for what you really want.
Don't go back to sleep.
People are going back and forth across the doorsill
where two worlds touch.
The door is round and open.
Don't go back to sleep.
Darkness everywhere surrounds
Seemingly
no crack nor crevice not filled
no thought not cloaked
no feeling not skewered
by it’s ever insidious presence
Shadows and darkness,
the canvases on which we paint
our masterpiece
with brushes of light shining
from spirit and soul
A wondrous painting
with the wings of eagles
soaring amongst the heavens
filled with countless dazzling stars
So much more the painter
than the painting
Up and through what worlds
do we ascend transmuting
darkness always into light?
I want to speak to you about love
about how you deny yourself
its slightest entry
about how much you truely fear
Love's silent embrace.
I want to talk to you
about what you will not
allow yourself to see--
about that beauty inside
that you turn your face from.
Yes, I want to talk to you.
You who have somehow
found a way to hide
within a sliver of darkness
cast upon the pure light of Being.
I want to talk to you.
I will not whisper.
You can live in the sliver of darkness forever
and tell yourself lies.
You can blame yourself.
You can blame others.
You can blame God and beyond.
And still that Love that you are will wait
until you can tell yourself
the lie of denial no more.
And at that very moment
you will see
just how silent Love's embrace can be.
And in that silence
the truth will ring clear.
Love demands everything:
all of your illusions
excuses and fears.
I want to speak to you about Love.
I want to talk to you about
what you will not allow
yourself to be.
I want to talk to you.
I will not whisper.