Always Here

You are always here.

Sometimes, I turn away,

Riding the maelstrom of my thoughts

Until I’m dizzy,

But you are always here.

And Sometimes my mind strays

Convoluted paths

To past and futures imaginary,

But still you are always here.

I remember when I thought you were not,

Couldn’t even imagine

A way out of the bubble of my loneliness,

Seeing only glimpses to highlight

My misery at being so lost;

But you were always here.

If you are self or God,

Or even make believe,

I am glad that you are always here

Because you are always here.

Heart Slide

The lonely heart

Is beyond tired:

It is absent.

Acknowledge the absence,

The dept

The insatiable wanting.

See it,

See the absolute truth

Of the hungry heart

And the deepest moment

Where two possibilities balance

Side by side,

Where one thing

Becomes its opposite,

And slides

From dept to fullness,

From hunger to wholeness

From wanting to satisfied,

For the heart is alive

And brimming

With warmth,

Not lonely

Or tired,

Just present.

Endlessly Refreshing

The air in me

Is not mine.

The bone and the flesh,

And deeper defined –

The vessels, the nerves, the cells,

And deeper still – the molecules bound,

Are not me or mine,

But companions

In a movement of time.

Am I the river, a stream?

Am I the wind,

Am I the rain?

Together we are something

And nothing.

But alive is

This dance of form expressing,

Unfolding, degrading, re-expressing,

For this world is but a wondrous garment,

Worn and tore down

Worn and torn down

Worn and torn down,

Endlessly refreshing.

Lantern

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A certain tungsten light
In filaments elemental
And burning with a dust
To dab upon the backs of bees,
To make them golden
As the source
That brought the all
From unseeing gloom
To vivid definition
And pleasure to the mind’s eye.

© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2016

Moss World Within The Gift

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In millennial silence
beings conceived at the very beginnings
unfold as they have timeless
known revolutions diurnal
and the cyclic swing of earth
in its year long voyage
in praise of wisdom
gifted by the star sol.

To know a billion years unaltered
and be in generation’s span
of always true to sun –
receiving the endless flow
of time’s nourishment
and the gracious matter
felt by every quivering leaf
as heat’s warm bosom
and light’s so gentle hand

– is first and only truth
within the kingdom
of father in heavens certainty.
To flourish is birthright
upon the world’s good earth;
and moss, guiltless in the whole,
takes its rightful place
among the children,
and thoughtless absorbs elation
as it was so lovingly sent.

© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2016

Spring Dance Of Freedom

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The earth turns
In incremental light.

The day expands
In millimetre shoots,

A green touch
Like lovers’ skin

Mirroring pale light
And new sun contours.

Each bulb nestles
In the mother’s pulse,

Follows exact
Circadian match:

The beautiful dance
Of closest partners.

Like all living things
In sweet, earthy bondage,

Not one strays
Nor splits disobedient

From irrefutable law
And physical fact

Of freedom
To be absolved,

And to shadow
First, ethereal footsteps.

 

© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2016