Walk With Me

Walk we me a while;

The night is sweet with honeysuckle

And fragrant shrubs breathing out

Their gifts for nightjars

And moths intent on the moon.

We’ve walked this path

In times past,

Many times;

We are kin

Though perhaps you’ve forgotten.

Never mind,

For arm in arm

We remember our love,

The warmth of our hearts,

The friendship

Of warm human bodies

Strolling side by side.

See, with each step upon this magic

We are closer.

To what? You ask,

Still forgetting.

To the Now perhaps

Or the tangible moment

Filled full with the moon

And dark-eyed moths

Feeding on the celestial beams

And heavenly night-shrubs.

See, up ahead, the Seeker’s gate:

It has a powerful magnetism.

But do you not feel the lushness of the

Creeping vines around us?

Do you not feel the cool

Of night shadows

Seeping between the trees

Holding earthen scents,

Sappy grasses bleeding

Into the cradling gloom?

You wish to go through the gate, I see.

I understand.

Do you wonder at what marvel lies beyond,

What treat you could be

If only we could muster the key

To enter?

No, beautiful friend, no!

Go that way

And find only endless dissatisfaction

In search of the elusive end

That never ever comes,

Always a horizon distant.

No, we are here already

For we walk arm in arm

In moonlight,

Our bare feet touching the cool stones

Of a pathway wending between trees

With waxy leaves,

Fluttering in ever so soft breezes.

See, there is enough in friendship.

Do not seek to open the gate

But look into my eyes instead,

Savour the scent of the moon

And the flavour of a wood

Enshrined in shadows,

Ever calling the nightjar and the moth.

Be here with me

In this savouring

Of the life in which our hearts beat,

A savouring of the space

In which we inhabit,

And the love

That gathers and glows

Between us

In the lush garden of ourselves.

What Is This Love?

What is this love

That firms the heart’s placement

And allows the lower guts

A secure knowing I,

For it speaks

Not in words

But in certainties,

Like deep roots

On which feelings

Draw support

For the body’s gross material.

And here there is knowing

That first in the world

Is the evergy body,

Like a current in the energy sea

In which all things are but component,

A dancing trace of a self

More nymph or laughter of light

Frequencing high, high, high

As electric thought

Transmitted.

This unshadowed being,

Swiftest eddie of soul untied,

Is our truth

Before the body,

Our elemental self

Free in the zest of freedom’s whole,

Free energy

Illuminating itself

Within itself,

Playfulness playing free

In all being,

The you before

Condensation in to form,

The lightest you

Unformed, unclothed and unprecipitated.

I Call Them Home

I call all my wants home

For each is like a hungry dog

Pulling hard on a rope,

Salivating

With the scent

Of satisfaction:

A dog’s belief

That things in the world

Can fulfil

Happiness.

I call them all:

The multitudes, the horde,

The ravenous pack – ever unfulfilled,

And whisper gently to them:

Sleep here by the fireside.

In my flame is the universal

– Burning without fuel

But for the fuel of the everlasting self.

Dine here

Where there is abundance

In sweet cornucopia.

Feed on that which is eternal

And drink from the ever brimming cup.

Do not look upon the world

For sustenance,

For it has nothing to give:

Look only to offer it love.

I Love You

Who are you

Being

That I should love you

With but the love you bring,

For in your arms

I am loved

By the love

Only the beloved sings.

Is this a paradox of madness,

Imagination’s great leap

Into the unknown?

No, for I know you

⁃ Warmth of sweetest certainly –

For you come to me

As me,

And only as the One

Are you One being.

Oh, if I could but convey

That which I don’t understand!

If only I could muster what I feel

Through the heart’s open eye

And write the truth,

Evoke the love so evocative.

Yet,

Truly I am failing,

Though thankful to try,

For with each attempt,

Each unsuccessful bid

To describe the indescribable

I am drawn closer in

And likewise

The world is infused,

Being

Free

Every where, when and thing

In boundlessness.

And all that I am?

But a momentarily eddy in the energy sea

Arising as

⁃ I love you –

Like a strand of luminous,

Ephemeral light

Written on nothing

Yet somehow said,

And yet

Unsaid

And yet somehow still happening.

The Fluid Sea

The fluid sea washes

On the shores of myself,

Half mix

Of night’s starlight

Swirling among phosphorus blooms,

A myriad microorganisms

Mirroring heavenly cosmos.

I feel salt sea

The brine waters of myself

Pulsing in time

With all the universe,

For I am half mix

Of cosmos

Swirling skyward,

And the earthen matter

Transfixed and tied by gravity.

I am

But the fluid sea

Speaking in waves,

My pen sketching moonlight slithers

Silvering the cusp

Of words,

Half mix

Of universe

And the brine-like being

Bathing me.

Stable Ground

For all the gifts

The world would offer,

None is more than passing,

None less transient

Than the clouds

Ever changing face and form.

Who and what

Finds immunity

From THIS law?

What in all that slips

And falls apart

And wears out

And degrades

Offers immutability’s

Stable ground?

None but formlessness

None but nothing’s something

None but silence’s empty space.

Only here in nowhere

Where there is none but one

Is peace unnamed,

Unmade and unhappening.

We Enter Ourselves

We take a stroll

Because of our shared love of truth.

We ask: what is the nature of I?,

Allowing the question

To sit in the tip of our tongues,

The taste of ourself

Percolating silence.

The mind might garble

But the taste is true.

What is the taste? Love?

Warmth and understanding?

Limitless, boundless I?

We stroll deeper still

Speaking our hearts,

Hearing our hearts’ perspective.

Fear seems a long way away,

Not even a problem,

For we ask: what is the nature of I?

And the answer is a recognition,

Our deliverance to it,

In it,

That we are

The truth we seek,

We are

Beautiful being,

Satisfied in the being of it.

Autumn Fisherman

True, this life is not perfect.

There are problems and difficulties

In the body,

In relationships,

In the wider world,

Spiralling into

Apparent madness.

But as I sit here

On a train

Watching the countryside streaming

Under a overcast Scottish sky,

I spot a tan and autumn fisherman

Wading in peat-brown fury,

His line arcing for trout or salmon

Or just the chill water, pulling,

And I am brought to the wonder

Of a grey morning

In which our fleeting touch,

Half a moment shy of his hook,

Is sweet with life’s meaning,

And for a second

I feel

It was not a silvery fish,

Taught and tugging,

But I

Vibrating on the end of his line.

Love’s Resonance

Truth is sweet upon my tongue

When I speak

From the loving perspective.

It’s as if the world warms

And expands,

Envelopes all in a delightful oneness,

A magic sprung for the heart’s

Open portal to the Word beyond.

And what of ownership?

There is none but God’s silence

Percolating and infusing

First the body,

Then the outer world,

Reaching to all infinity,

His space rightly claimed.

Truth is like honey on the tongue,

Sweeter for sharing,

Sweeter still in the expanding moment,

Wholly overwhelming

Like an encompassing wave,

And bringing all to love’s resonance.

Meditation

First, I settle

And then

As if drifting

I am dipped in the liquid of being

And go whole

Into that golden sea,

The light sea

Where there are no beginnings.

And in those unfathomed waters

All that was

Is indistinguishable,

All that could be

Is likewise nullified,

All things of form

Answer the call,

Returning home to the source

To be free.

Yet when I arise,

When I put on my clothes,

My mind and my body,

I feel the warm nakedness of truth,

A drop of that sea

Lubricating all things

With wonder,

A single infinite drop

Baptising all with its light.