Standing in the Light
gazing inward and upward
the path is steep.
a gentle wind drifts by
a light forward push.
A pilgrim in the mist
worn scattered footprints
Pioneers of the new world, gather together.
Yours are the flames that welcome the first born.
Anchor your souls to the Elder Brothers so that you can rise.
You are the army of heroes who cross earthly boundaries
to conquer a new dimension.…
Dear friends, now is the time.
We shall be benevolent in our thinking
with a unified heart and mind.
We shall raise our spirit to understanding.
We shall see how the plan for humanity unfolds.…
The high seas are dark and turbulent,
the way no longer clear, all is obscure.
I search for your hand, spirit of truth,
I have taken up anchor to seek you
in this rough storm and wild unknown…
Following dappled paths takes me off
Into an in-between place,
Neither all-sun nor all-shade.
Lively patterned spots of both
Dance through the air
Infusing the space of this leafy abode.…
A softly whispered stillness fell about,
In which a Pregnant Glory seemed to shout!
The dying moments of a Passing Age,
With all its share of growth and pain and rage,
Gave way with shuddered sigh and gnarled hand
To Infant Life, now learning how to stand.
A great teacher once told us to seek
and then we shall find.
When the seeker’s path called us
we travelled the world for guidance,
we read the wise books of knowledge,
we watched the earth and its labours,
we were pilgrims on the narrow path…
And you, self, proud warrior for some perhaps illusory Freedom,
As your last fortress falls to the great midnight gun,
Lay down your arms,
Though still unbowed, your rebel head is bloodied,
You cannot live on the run,
In a future day,
Will quantum physics help us throw off
Our habitual limited dense matter thinking?
Those perpetually-moving quantum particles
Constantly criss-crossing into connectivity
Reveal the web of all things inter-connected
So that at last, the weight of separate-ness
Can lift off our hearts and free our mind,
Reminding us that we are everywhere-present.
It’s Good Friday,
The women have left the hanging hill
Broken, with his body,
A lifetime, more than a death
away from healing tears
(A long, terrible death,
but it’s over now)
Beyond language there is a place
where mysteries dwell that need to be revealed,
mysteries held in the heart of truth by
shepherds of the way, the Teachers.
Beyond the dark plains of mind and
the windy nights of inner storms, we see…
Not long ago I made an unusual and unique encounter.
It was sunset time;
we both walked on the same street in the same direction.
The same cadence of the step found us side by side
I on the one hand He on the other