Rest Awhile

Come thought,

Dogged and persistent,

Rest awhile,

For you have laboured

And toiled and tried

Yourself weary.

Rest awhile

For there is nothing

You can do,

Nothing you can improve

Or fix or even make right.

The world is as it is

And you are small,

A child in all of this.

Rest awhile

For the thoughts you think

Only momentarily eclipse

The love

That holds you in the world.

Rest awhile

And you will see,

You will feel,

All is well,

All is as it should be.

Love Connects Us

Though the days

Are heavy with loss

And the winter of grief

Holds us too close,

Love is yet

The deeper principle,

For all are borne

On love’s unknowable meandering,

All are borne upon life’s lifting back,

And though we are all

At some time recalled

Beyond our mind’s reach

And beyond the veil

Of substance and reality,

Love accompanies our passing,

Holding our hands

And whispering

That we are loved

And that those parted

Are not truly torn away

But still connected,

Still with us

In the union

That does not faulted

Or ever end.

Awareness

When he speaks from Source

His heart is whole in his chest

And fears do not trouble his thoughts.

Even his troubles are untroublesome

For the Source holds all,

Sees all with beautiful clarity.

With time and memory absorbed,

There is but the now to behold,

A now of infinite plenty

Where he is alive,

Alive with innermost energy,

New as a universal birth.

When he speaks from Source

He stands at the expanding edge of the

Universe, singing the song he is,

Being none other than himself,

None but he who sees:

The very wellspring of reality.

Way Home

There is a scented trail

Waiting upon the breeze,

That, like a dog

You must follow.

For the scent is a smooth ribbon

Of being,

A substance made of love

That calls you by name

And feeds your every need

Until there is only wellbeing.

Kindness flows upon this cord,

Energy to hold your hand

And lead you to effortless life,

A voice breathing away your fears

And calling you to your self,

Your voice,

Calling you homeward bound.

Love

Float

On the upwelling,

The ever pushing pulse

Of love,

For it is yours

As it is you.

Oh, how that intellect

And riddled belief

Tells you

It isn’t so,

Oh, how cold and alone

And desperate

The separate minds feels,

How loathsome life feels.

Yet, still you float

Alive in reality,

The unacknowledged truth

A wedge between you and you,

The truth displaced

By fearful thinking.

Oh, but the truth is love,

The all encompassing feeling

Filling you whole,

A mother to your woe

Holding you close

As the child comforted.

The truth is love:

It will fill you if you but ask.

Peach Of Plenty

Breathe upon

The subtle scent,

Allow your lips to linger

On its soft flesh,

Then,

Take a bite,

Chew the sweetness

And swallow the juices running freely:

Feel the plenty

Absorbed and nourishing,

Sustaining your life.

Look again,

For the peach is whole,

Untarnished, unbitten,

Perfect in its entirety.

Breathe upon

The subtle scent,

Take a bite,

Shortage was just a dream

For the peach is infinite

And you may take all you need.

Feast upon the ever-giving gift

And eat whenever you are hungry:

The peach of plenty

Is always yours.

Ⓒ Ben Truesdale 2020

When We Share

When we share

The truth

That we are free,

We are borne upon the moment

The real-time

Ever-opening moment

Of the universe’s

Outwardly expanding edge:

And there,

We are lifted and thrust

And propelled into the infinite,

Yoked whole

And joined

To who we really are.

Ⓒ Ben Truesdale 2020

The Sky Is Blue

The sky is blue

And deep

And impenetrable,

Absorbing my gaze

Which finds no purchase

In its azure nothingness,

Finds nothing

But lazuline, cerulean flawless flatness,

In which the cumulous materialise,

Condense in forever morphing forms;

There in expansion or contraction

Wispiness or burdensome bruising

Clotting before rain drops are birthed,

Or reconsidered by the air’s

Subtle hold, and withdrawn

Into the invisibility of blueness

And the dimensionless constant

Reaching beyond the reaching mind.

ⓒBen Truesdale f2020

Perspective

Whilst watering the garden pots

In the stilling dusk

I turn

And look,

Take in an unexpected perspective,

An angle from which I have not perceived,

And suddenly my breath

Is swept from my chest

By the beauty of the rush

Of plants propelled springward

And joyously becoming

Their exponential selves.

And in that gathering moment

My heart swells

For their vividness,

For the life sweet in their being,

For their entwining and wondering reach

Into spaciousness,

And for the bud of a poem

Born on the sap-surge

Of my lip,

And giddy with the prospect of flowering.

ⓒBen Truesdale 2020