Fire

 

Fire,

Always there

Even when unlit;

The dim embers,

Weakened by neglect

Yet haunting in potential—

The fear of the distant future,

Incessantly nibbling at Peace,

Yet in itself, non-existent

Aside from its dreamy landscape

Of threatening horrors—

The home of the heart,

Our first and only Love,

Doth remain with all

In invisible strength

And timeless energy,

The light of presence

Amidst the dark,

The cold.

MS22

The Curving Plane

 

Swept away

By fantastic stories

Fuelled by real passions

And tormented psyches—

 

Off to the land of

Deluded realities

And false guidance—

 

But yonder,

Yet again,

The sun doth rise,

The fiery lighthouse

Dawns on the curving plane,

(The sphere of continuity),

The bountiful rock

Of uncountable yesterdays.

A full breath of lush air

Does impregnate the night

And release the day

Of its natural charms and perfumes,

Its atmospheric gift to Mother,

Its strings and fields of oneness.

 

MS22