In Your Subtle Magic

In your subtle magic

I feel the breeze of God

Blow fresh upon my face,

As though my heart were dipped in you

And open to receive

The gift of love

In its dreamy magnitude.

Oh, but this is just poetry

And the facts of your warm breath

Are the melting

In the melting,

The dissolution of the self

As one salt drop becomes the sea,

Where worry is made redundant

By the loving,

And fears

Are turned to whispered nothings,

And the heart reins full

And beautiful,

Seeing beyond the body’s boundaries,

Smiling upon the mind

And the thoughts

And the self importance,

Utterly disintegrated.

Delicious Light

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O what solar incandescence,
Warm upon the face,
For us to freely take
From source
Diurnal everlasting.
And O what sustenance
In which we bathe
And garner flesh,
So we might glide
Upon the motive wing
High above it all,
Absorbing precious gift
In updrafts,
Light as breath
Of daffodil glowing
In yellow flush expressed.

© 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