You whisper in my ears
tell me things
you think I ought to know
secrets that will save me
but I can’t ever hear them.
Crouching always singing
dreams sweep past me
so fast I’ll never see them.
Age creeping through my veins
infesting me
hardening my heart
till I’m like a stone
a statue in a park
alone.
Years go by
too much pain, I think
so I stay frozen
watching the seasons pass
one by one
faster each time round
falling leaves and snow around my feet
blending with the flowers.
So it happens one day
that you are there
not the old you but a new you
a youthful you
studying with pity my marble face
with the soft warm tip of you finger
you trace the outline of my lips
and follow this up very gently with a kiss
my seams crack
I’m coming apart
waking
then you are gone.
– matt at shadow of iris
What are these instinctive energies
that undulate through our bodies,
moving us into action?
And this “matter” out of which our forms are made –
What are these dancing particles of condensed radiance,
Are they an illusionist’s projection?
What is this power we call Life,
appearing as the play of flesh and breath?
How may I know this mystery and enter it more deeply?
Beloved, my attention is ensnared by a myriad of forms,
the innumerable individual entities everywhere.
Lead me into the wholeness beyond all these parts.
You, who hold the mysteries in your hand -
of will, knowledge and action,
Reveal to me the path of illumined knowing.
Lead me into joyous union
with the life of the universe.
Teach me that I may know it fully,
realize it deeply,
and breathe in the truth of it.
The Radiance Sutras
That’s very beautiful. Thanks!
I liked this a lot. Park, statues..
Thanks!
Should i decide it’s true
that you would leave if given half the chance to go and
i’d be left here on my own
to find myself in bed
wishing everything that changed would be the same
the room still looks like you
it’s a mess and all the pictures on the shelf are
dusted off by someone else
to keep me company
i haven’t told her that your thought still lingers on
everyday’s another chance to bury my regret
everyday’s another chance to make it but i can’t
but i can’t
i saw you on my phone
on a contact list that isn’t up to date
would have changed it with more time
that i require to
rid my mind of all the freckles on your face
and reconcile to what?
the ring i bought you is buried deep within the ground
behind the swing where we first met
and memory only serves
to remind of all the bruises you forgave
should i decide it’s true
that you’d return if given half the chance to come….
but it’s not true
[william fitzsimmons.
your words could easily be one of his songs.]