she walks up to the lighthouse
as i in fear linger behind
dare i follow or speak a word?
or would it be folly to presume?
and so i watch her step up to the door
in a second she’s gone inside
and i tremble and look up to the stars
even as their beauty overwhelms me
my thoughts flee and i let out a sigh
no matter where this day ends up
no matter if my heart stays broken
i still am anchored by the oath i have given
and held tight by the love i have known
and i too am counted beautiful
and named even as the countless stars
so i name her now in my heart of hearts
and hurry up the path she trod
Tag: creative
Harp Song
Silver water slides underneath the bridge and I feel an urgent desire to shed my shirt and shoes and jump right in. Usually I can push off mad thoughts such as this but not this time. Off comes my shirt and off come my shoes and I climb over the railing and balance on the lip of the bridge. I stretch my back and legs and then push slowly up once as I hold on loosely to the rail behind. The sun beats hot upon my head and I feel the sweat begin to trickle down my neck. The swift water below looks absolutely delicious. I once more slowly press down upon the bridge with my toes and then I force myself past the point of no return and off I leap. The water rushes toward me as my stomach leaps in protest as I have a half second to wonder if I’ve perhaps made a mistake. Never mind! My feet hit the water and my flailing arms and head soon follow. Ah I am cool and I am washed and oh boy is it cold! I immediately splutter to the surface even as I feel the water rush me onwards. I let it. I’m floating backwards and can’t quite see where I’m going but I know the river runs straight for a good half mile at least and I’m not overly concerned of stray rowboats. So I lie back and let the waters carry me on as I feel the sun smile down upon me. Its warmth feels good now. I am a part of the river and the river is a part of me and together we in unison dance with the sky above and the breeze that leaps between. It is a good dance, a rollicking affair. I am not at all mad about my choice, no matter what Madeleine may say later on. Up on that bridge I was a remote observer, standing upon concrete and mind elsewhere. Now? I am living true as the river carries me on. My mind is in the moment and present and oh so focused on the fact that I am in this river and I am breathing fresh air and I feel cold and hot at the same time and it is glorious and I hear creation’s song.
Adventure
The light fades in the western sky. I would love to see the stars this night but I know it is rather unlikely. Instead, I shall set my back against the sun-warmed rock and pull out my notebook and attempt to scribble something worthy of what I have seen this day. My whole life I have longed to witness the grand and beautiful and be a part of something bigger and greater than myself. I have longed to be living a story that could properly be called epic.
Yet as any seasoned reader knows, it’s a perilous thing to wish to live in the stories that so often thrill us. The highs are high yes. But oh the lows. The pain and the anxiety, the heart pounding in your throat and the bile rising as you fear you’ll lose all you ate that day. I do rather wish now to go back to my little town and enjoy a quiet evening by the fireside.
I saw death today. It’s the first time I’ve seen it up close in the raw and wild. And it was a friend. I will talk of her later, I don’t think I can bear to think further on her now. We started this quest together in joyous abandon, sure that it was our destiny and what had been writ for us in the stars. Now a bare few weeks into our adventuring, she is gone and I remain and there are no stars this night.
Jester
The giant strolls across the moors
and I point my hand across the way
see there he is!
see there he goes!
see there the clouds raised
by his mighty toes!
I sit against the rock on the riverside
and pen a ballad to be sung that night
I wonder if she’ll be there
that lass I love to mad distraction
that lass of the chocolate eyes and raven hair
but now this tale may end in abbreviated fashion
I jump up with alarm as the quaking grows nearer
the giant has come to investigate it seems
why a shepherd boy lazes away by the stream
I hoped to avoid his notice
but alas it seems this tale will have an ending different
than the one I would preferred to have written
instead of the mighty warrior holding court as his words hold sway
we end with our poet lad running fast away!
Sabbath Meditation
I sometimes wish I lived in a little cottage at the top of a cliff overlooking the sea. It sounds picturesque, does it not? Imagine hearing the waves crash ceaselessly against the rocks far below. Look far out across the grey sea and smile as you imagine the sunset that is soon to be. Take a walk in the garden and feel the wind whip against your shoulders as you hear the gulls cry in melodious cacophony. Well, perhaps strike that last. But still, can you imagine sitting on the porch of your little cottage watching the soft rain fall and with a book upon your lap breathing deep the sea air? Perhaps you have a little lantern next to you for that light which becomes necessary as the sky slowly darkens. And inside you know the pot of tomato sauce bubbles away and perfumes the air for the moment when you shall step back inside to stir and inhale the scents of garlic and oregano. I think of what it would be like to have a cottage as I have described and I smile. Maybe someday. But also I know there are drawbacks to such a life. How far away the grocery store, I wonder? Perhaps thirty minutes, perhaps more! And if it is storming, of course I would not risk the muddy drive. And where are my closest friends? Perhaps not nearby. I would be lonely at times, lonely enough that my heart be sore to hurting. And the nearest library would be quite a distance away and I would know all the books on all the shelves by the sixth month, surely. But then, I suppose in this little cottage of mine I could build quite the cosy little library, could I not? So no disadvantage that.
But still my heart yearns for a quiet little home on a cliffside far away. Though at times I would miss those whom my heart holds dear, still it would do me good to gaze upon the beauty of that wine-dark sea each and every day. There is something in my soul that craves such. I would love to walk the garden path and lift my eyes to the stars above and pray to God aloud and relish the fact that He hears me true and sets his hand upon me in firm affirmation of my place at his feet. But then, I suppose I need not a cottage for that last. I can even now on my couch in this little city apartment raise my eyes to heaven and cry out to the God who knows my name. Maybe someday I’ll have this cottage to call my home sweet home. But for the now, I smile and rest in the fact that eternal life is mine no matter where this feeble frame resides. Someday I shall receive the call that even now eternity in my heart prepares me for. Someday I shall walk the garden path with the God who knows my name. Someday soon even I shall see that perfect beauty for which my soul longs. Someday I shall look into the eyes of Jesus.
Oathsworn
Why do you scribble so furiously she shouts in agony
see here all my tears upon the page
they are for you my love for you that’s all
well then please turn your eyes upon me
let me see their grey
and I turn from the stained paper and she feels my gaze
why do you tremble so my honey
what makes your eyes spark in the candlelight?
you know my love i never was much good at talking
why do you think i write so many fevered words?
give me a minute or two and you’ll have your answer
i understand yes i do for you i’ll wait
i’ll sit here upon the crook of the moon
and i smile with that fresh imagery and i answer
you have my lifetime and all my best stories
and yes you have me too
Candles
Light and life and rose petals and a frost upon the glass
see what you make me think of when you grace me with your smile
don’t you think it’s worth it
even these moments that fall short of art?
I don’t consider it any less a celebration just because it’s quiet
and certainly I don’t mind it when it’s just me and you
if anything my heart is sad knowing you’re hurting
so don’t apologize my love don’t say you’re sorry
just know that you here and now is all i want
someday we’ll go for walks again together
someday we’ll celebrate down at my favourite patio bar
but for now let’s just relish being home together
i’ll light the candle and you curl up on your chair
soon enough my love soon enough you’ll be better
but for now it’s enough knowing you’re there
In Between
approach the lower doorway and
ask if all is as it seems
i find it slightly peculiar
how the light turns green now
just when i’m ready to sleep
do you also ascend in half steps
do you feel the sea breeze too?
feel my heart thrum thrum thrum
eyes open wider
the corridor stretches
is it almost time to dream?
In All of Time and Space
A momentary beauty and a fundamental truth encourages me in this day that feels so real and present yet I know by tomorrow it will be yet another wafer thin page quickly fading in my memory to mist. But does that fact that the existing moment in the present is quickly shoved aside to become ever less important in the grand scheme of the timeline that rushes stubbornly in one direction mean that moment is in actuality less important or is it only a trick of perception? I would argue so though it is difficult to state my case when I can say for almost certainty that if this earth still spins a few hundred years hence there will be no one left alive who remembers my name (and certainly not my face). I’ve had the thought myself when looking at old photo albums – who is that? No clue. Turn the page. Page turned and accomplished and we move forward in swaggering sureness of importance of self. Hard to think otherwise when one exists as one does and can only reference to self because well one thinks as oneself does one not? Oh pardon me for this angst induced overly indulgent existential rage. I am proud and selfish as most of us tend to be, us mere humans scraping through the rubble of our shattered dreams attempting to salvage an idea of the grand reality that was promised. Does your heart thrill to that thought too? Is there a true myth that causes your heart to skip a beat and the hair to rise upon your neck as you put your hand to your lips as unconsciously you yearn for a taste of the miraculous? Or is it only again the scrabbling through the ashes of the forest attempting to construct a mansion out of trees that never could bear the weight of expectations as you turn your face aside to cry? I ask for your forgiveness, friend. My thoughts dance ahead of my reason and I fear the turmoil of my heart is now bare for all to see. What is this lot of mine, this suffering? Do you hurt too? I ache for that weight of glory. I beg for the veil to be removed. I crave to live in a real house someday. I can’t bear this tent much longer, surely not. But there is a sense of something beautiful in the corner of my eye and I rest my hand upon the truth that truly never lies. Someday resurrection will be seen face to face. For now though I see not, I believe. I can’t help but otherwise when the fire burns within me so.
Snapshot
she darts a gaze my way
that woman leaning against
the little yellow car
profound in its solidity
she slumps in her transience
and meets my eyes
small smile plays about her lips
even as the cigarette touches
i walk past the stranger and don’t look back
oh now i smell the smoke
Something Weird 