Posts from — January 2009

when chill winds blow

look to where they come from

listen to what is said on the wind

beneath the howling and frost

answers

can be

found

the blood in her veins flowed like the indus

roared like the ganges

rumbled like the brahmaputra

cascaded into

a strange place

where honour

was

a shifting cloud

his grandmother

died

but

passed on

the essence of who she was

if you look into that marketplace

called death

there are endless grandmothers

who can guide you through the maze of hawkers

and trinket sellers

the in-between is much like this world

it is man-made, a fabric of the human condition

but is real to the lingering consciousness

think of death as a second birth

her last words were not a shout

but an exclaimation

of a universal truth

that few can walk

or even speak

the words

grandmother

sits in the space of things

she weaves the threads

on which all the sacred words

are strung

when the world is in a rush

and seeks to drag you along

look within

see the inner view

that place within you

where everything is

still,

mindful

and as it should be

and

is

Here in the mountains

there is a piano on the water

the sound of the piano floats across the still lipped waves

which underneath are stirred by the unseen pianist

and mist comes

the piano is its sound

percussion more bell and harp like

piano on the water

voices in the keys

major and minor

merged in a slow embrace

by a shy breeze

hinting at mortality

and the everlasting sounds

of the hidden keys

The world may try to grind you down

and the night may seem forever long

take courage

for it can set you free from your despair

others may seek to stop your path

or to hold you back

take courage

it comes from deep within

it dwells in the deepest part of who you are, were and can be

the world admires courage

but promotes cowardice and an unthinking life

take courage

and be burnt and made new

by its blinding and purifying light

Mortality

is both a time and a process

not a destination,

mortality is the sharp edge of time

the chisel by which consciousness

emerges from the cocoon of our lives

it is a vow made by the soul long before birth

mortality

is a fragrance

on a strong north wind

embracing it brings

freedom and responsibility

of the time and process

listen to the rain

listen to every drop

listen to the rain

the talking of water

earth and sky

in every single drop

there is a choir

infinite mercies

in a single note

of rain

the path is made of what we need

the impulse always is undestanding

does time have a chronocology?

does fate , a memory of itself

does space know its boundaries

or that light is borne from darkness?

in each moment

there dwells

beauty

in each moment

there dwells

beauty