Writing & Poetry
Love Recognises Love
Do not underestimate
The value
Of your precious smile
As your eyes meet with a passing stranger’s
The light of love and recognition
That passes between you
In that moment
Might just be
What brings redemption
To this wonderful wounded world
The Sacred Descent
Drop down through the dry cracks of daylight,
Burrow deep into the moist crevices of winter’s icey stillness,
Where time is slow and the air thin.
They told you it was dangerous here,
You heard tales of persecution and death,
“Stay in the light of summer” they pleaded, “it’s safe here!”
But you could not listen,
For you did not come for only half of this.
The pea under all those mattresses of perception propelled you on,
deep, deep down,
through the portal,
Into the womb.
Now you are here,
The distractions lost their shine
And you could no longer ignore the ache.
You came to plumb the depths
And bring everything back into your heart.
It is different here.
The way is lit by the sincerity of your love of truth,
And the gentleness of the truth of love will guide you.
The fire is fuelled by the 10,000 things,
and your intense yearning,
The silent wind of your courage and devotion fans its flames.
Rest here, at the hearth,
Let the warmth of your love soften the frozen sinews of misunderstanding and pain.
Be still, my dear
Stay close, closer than close
And let our bodies dissolve into one.
Give space to the harsh rocky sediments of judgement and control,
Offer them a cosy bed on which to rest,
And endless cups of manna to fill their parched veins and quench the thirst,
For they only want peace too.
Gather in the frightened ones
And lend them the strength of your voice and arms,
Whisper all the love songs you know into their ears
And breathe fresh hope into their deflated lungs,
Until they too can stand alone.
Stay here, my love, don’t turn away.
You can bare this pain, and it will transform you,
Your love is the balm you have been seeking,
Your tears are the tonic to wash away the muddy foot prints of karma.
My sword is sharp but its cut like silk;
It draws no blood and leaves no trace of shame, blame or guilt.
Softly, gently, slowly
Sweet shadow,
Weary wound of existence,
I welcome you Home
Again, and Again
Eternally
The Heart of Darkness
The heart of Winter is so bright
(Ah, well fancy that!)
Let’s hold hands
And we will go
Together, through the night
Where two or more are gathered
In thy name, it’s true!
Remember you are the light!
The light illuminating you!
Zero Is Home
On leaving Home…
Thoughts contort
Scary stories are bought
Which sell us so very, very short
Like pieces of a shattered nought
That can never find itself
To re-re-report
The fraught and distraught primary thought
Stay Home, Folks!
The Golden Thread of Grace
In more places than before
I find you there
When desire or despair
Tighten my chest
Or grip my throat
When space collapses in
And technique fails
I find you there
When to breathe is too much
Or the pain intolerable
At night
I find you there
In a voice, a face, a poem,
In the understanding and reassurance of one who has gone before
Or my own sweet hands
Resting on heart and belly
There you are
Writing & Poetry
Love Recognises Love
Do not underestimate
The value
Of your precious smile
As your eyes meet with a passing stranger’s
The light of love and recognition
That passes between you
In that moment
Might just be
What brings redemption
To this wonderful wounded world
The Sacred Descent
Drop down through the dry cracks of daylight,
Burrow deep into the moist crevices of winter’s icey stillness,
Where time is slow and the air thin.
They told you it was dangerous here,
You heard tales of persecution and death,
“Stay in the light of summer” they pleaded, “it’s safe here!”
But you could not listen,
For you did not come for only half of this.
The pea under all those mattresses of perception propelled you on,
deep, deep down,
through the portal,
Into the womb.
Now you are here,
The distractions lost their shine
And you could no longer ignore the ache.
You came to plumb the depths
And bring everything back into your heart.
It is different here.
The way is lit by the sincerity of your love of truth,
And the ferocity of the truth of love will guide you.
The fire is fuelled by the dead wood of life,
and your intense yearning,
The gentle wind of your courage and devotion fans its flames.
Rest here, at the hearth,
Let the warmth of your love soften the frozen sinews of misunderstanding and pain.
Be still, my dear
Stay close, closer than close
And let our bodies dissolve into one.
Give space to the harsh rocky sediments of judgement and control,
Offer them a cosy bed on which to rest,
And endless cups of manna to fill their parched veins and quench the thirst,
For they only want peace too.
Gather in the frightened ones
And lend them the strength of your voice and arms,
Whisper all the love songs you know into their ears
And breathe fresh hope into their deflated lungs,
Until they too can stand alone.
Stay here, my love, don’t turn away.
You can bare this pain, and it will transform you,
Your love is the balm you have been seeking,
Your tears are the tonic to wash away the muddy foot prints of karma.
My sword is sharp but its cut like silk;
It draws no blood and leaves no trace of shame, blame or guilt.
Softly, gently, slowly
Sweet shadow,
Weary wound of existence,
I welcome you Home
Again, and Again
Eternally
The Heart of Darkness
The heart of Winter is so bright
(Ah, well fancy that!)
Let’s hold hands
And we will go
Together, through the night
Where two or more are gathered
In thy name, it’s true!
Remember you are the light!
The light illuminating you!
Zero
Thoughts contort
Scary stories are bought
Which sell us so very, very short
Like pieces of a shattered nought
That can never find itself
To re-re-report
The fraught and distraught primary thought
The Golden Thread of Grace
In more places than before
I find you there
When desire or despair
Tighten my chest
Or grip my throat
When space collapses in
And technique fails
I find you there
When to breathe is too much
Or the pain intolerable
At night
I find you there
In a voice, a face, a poem,
In the understanding and reassurance of one who has gone before
Or my own sweet hands
Resting on heart and belly
There you are