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Posts Tagged ‘immanence’

See how the sharp edge
of the moon
is a whetstone to the wind.
worn down, nail thin,
by heaven’s river.

keen, I suppose,
will be the waters at Pwll Bo.
focused, brown and roaring curses,
squeezed between rocks
in the ringing, whirled pools.

there is only this:
sudden mystery rippling
waves of grass;
a dog barking
as the hills come and go.
the waves of their edge
breaking deep
to the green valley’s bed.

last day of January-
flooded with passion
for things unmade.

and the yews of Aberglasney
will be bowed down
from the weight of stars,
their dark corridors
woven deeply with tingled silence,
a worm’s turn from Spring.

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NARAYANA

Over time
We shall fly over time

As cormorants skim
Fast as black light and suns

Watching pattern ripples daze
A dress of taste

In another’s dream
Who sleeps

Near eternal, an
Ambient drone

Slow exhaled life
As warm as

Revolving about that
Dim heart distant

So constant to be forgot
And we

Floating as hawks
Tragic as angels

Longing to dip and fish
Those exquisite ripples

Understanding
But not caring

The illusion that is
Neither wave

Nor part
A weighing of not

This and not
That

Dazed by art
Longing to

Drown in it
Over time

We skim and hover
Become dream

For want of anything
More particular.

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Violet blue
The bluebell haze.
Twisted, threaded,
Through and through
The oak green.

The shadow dropped
From big-breasted hills
Rolling in waves:
Valley’s deep sigh.

The road sways:
Head, this way and that
A hound seeking home,
The river snake’s companion.

I am blown free and torn
In this cloud-edged land,
Misted and veiled
All purposes tasted.

A scumble of swifts
Above the black poplars.
A heaven white scent
The rowan, the hawthorn.

The names: a rough reed bed
Tempered with savoured vowel.
Roughshod, a blacksmith’s anvil
Of a language.
Meanings annealed, malleable,
A memory of saint and well
And sandal.

A here and a there
Where miles elongate
Or evaporate.
Where moments grow roots,
Deserve names, a fame
For remaining.

A valley cloud, high and low,
A wooded place, an inhabited mound,
Yew and chestnut,
A fading, rained-upon blossom
An adherence to loneliness.

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KEY TEN
(Glen Mor and the Ard Ri n’a Sidhe, Mull)

“We shall give to you here
The skill of the Song of the Land.

Words of silver,
Words of gold.

Sweet gale and honey
On the tongue tip.

The melancholy of the curlew
And the lapwing.

The smooth stream of the blackbird;
The harsh heart of the eagle.

For you are only human –

Life as sweet as the scent of violets
And then gone.”

—-

Here, then, is the last of the Ten Keys to the Green Kingdoms and the words that discover their essence. Collecting environmental and subtle energy essences can be an uncertain thing. One can doubt the veracity of what is perceived, of what images and thoughts pass in front of consciousness. We knew the island of Mull still retained a sentient link to the Fairy Kingdoms, once felt throughout Britain, now rarely encountered or paid attention to. These words formed and seemed to me to emanate from high in the hierarchy of the Secret Commonwealth, the Otherworld realms. Delusion is easy for humans, however. I wished that I could be shown some veracity of the intent and content of the words. Immediately thereafter, as I was gazing out from the coach window, a grey heron flew close alongside us, keeping pace with the vehicle. Those who know, know the heron as a significant messenger of the Hidden Kingdoms. These things happen, likely or not. The Green Kingdoms underlie all levels of landscape, history, myth, psyche. They are the dreaming of the world. Those who might have been touched somehow by one or more Key may like to look at using the essence as a spiritual nutrient. Please go to http://greenmanshop.co.uk

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white green violet

KEY FOUR
(St. Columba’s Well, Barra)

At the green knees of Beinn Tangaval:
Little cave,
Stream of inspiration.

White dove,
Among the wind and weathered rock
Orchid, lousewort and asphodel,
secret and safe.

In the bay:
Turquoise and violet waters,
Arc of sand.

On the lochside shore
White feather on the air.

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POUR

The air is cool and still
Unmoved by the threaded rain,
Weighed straight and fast.

A roar upon the roof,
Laughter in the gutters:
A gurgled drunk descent,
Spun down to dark earth.

A balance of letting go,
A balance of remaining.
A slow exhalation.

FALL

Leaf fall
Thought fall
Heart fall.
Red, bruised,
Lip curled.
Nothing,
But to seek
The peace beneath joy,
The peace beneath sorrow.
This cold, empty sky.
This wordless depth.

—-

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FIGURATIVELY

Such as it is,

(All immanent),

It fades, fades, flies, falls.

Our art,

The only way

To catch the present moment,

Reflected, mirrored

On this moving, rippled

Lake of memory.

—-

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