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Posts Tagged ‘spirit’

LUMINOUS

Luminous ghosts
in translucent
birdsong mornings.

Old friends
invisible
and dancing.

We will have forgotten everything,
( memory
being the engine
of eternal
destruction).

Magnanimous
in all things,
Utterly laughing,
missing nothing.

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Pwll y Bo, “Pool of the wraith”, is a wooded, rocky cascade of the River Irfon on the road up the Abergwesyn valley, a few miles from where I live. Downstream, stranded now in silence, but once the heart of Llanwrtyd, the old church site of St. David’s on a small spur of hillside around which the ascending road curls. Saint and spirit, a confluence of notions.

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PWLL Y BO (1)

Mountain air threads mist in valley sleep.
We dreamless lie, cherishing weight.
Up at Pwyll Bo, I suppose, the lean, green larches
Will stand roaring down the dawn winds.
The oaks, staid grey and still on their slanted hill.
The otter shall sink and roll, melting to water.
Mossed rock wet, endless white the tumble.
Ever hollow spans the spirit’s song, a haunted bridge.

The winding path to delight is to be walked not run.
Time given to sliding slow eyes, side on side,
To stop and to forget.
This breath the church of all gods,
The heart’s Holy Ghost light woven.
Time enough for long blue days
And the dead slowly revolving
On the hillside church
Wriggling back to earth and seed.
Their heads now risen green, unfurled,
A dappled Trump each last and every day.

Unknown things travelling down
Are woven, whirled and worded.
Skein thin spirit clothed and given sight.
A voice, even, from rock and worried water.
Grasped and clothed its essence sings,
The illusory cling of names forgot,
The savoured winding sheet of waves
And pillowed, folded rocks.
It says, it says:
The confluence of all rivers is the ocean.
The confluence of all words is the heart.

Shall it cleave to the warmth of sunlight,
Wood avens and violets on the bank?
Or shall it bend into moonlight,
Emptying all in cool rest, the starlit air?
Or long longing, wait for drifting careless breath
Warm bodies dabbled, absent stares,
To speak heard and unheard,
Noticed yet unrecognised?

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Apple

A mist, apple-scented.
My love:
A lake that is not a lake,
A scinter of song,
Small eternal longing.
A thousand shattered dancing suns
Dying on the ripples
And reborn.

Afal

Mae niwl, persawrus-afal.
Mae fy nghariad:
A llyn sydd ddim yn llyn,
A sglein o gân,
hiraeth tragwyddol bach
A mil o haul dawnsio chwalu
Marw ar y crychdonnau a ail eni.

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And now, at last, these geometries fade and waver,
Shimmer and dissolve. They pale into dream by the minute,
Their patterns particular, their patterns platonic, eidetic,
Now smudge and stumble, arching poetry drowned
As crystalline mechanics impose precisions of direction.
Here revolve the greater means, the spheres of motion.
More primal their causes, more abstract and faceless
In their godwards ascending.

Spera nona – spera motus octave spera que fit motus eius de septentrione ad meridiem et e converso ( ninth sphere, which moves the eighth sphere and causes it to travel from north to south and vice versa)

We spin and drift
Caught in a mighty flow of will,
Ninth and tenth now are these spheres,
Mighty, faceless,
A slow measuring out
Of purpose,
A swing of footsteps,
A steady scythe, left to right.
A fall of stars,
A winnowing light.

Spera decima – spera suprema qua fit motus de occidente ad orientem et est pricipium motus (tenth sphere – highest sphere in which takes place the movement from west to east and which is the principal of all movement).

Fold up and slew the horizons.
The palaces of motion,
Hollow vowels, time evolving
Revolving through centuries
Turning one way, turning another,
A dance, stately and preposterous.

Natura pricipium corporis (Nature as the principal of bodies)

The four spheres of the soul:
Anima vegetabilis
Anima animalis
Anima rationabilis
Anima celestis

Discontiguous,
Folded between the transcendent, fierce certainty
Of angels, and sullen dust,
(The grinding orbs of time and space),
Float four soul worlds,
Unhinged, awaiting injection,
Awaiting ejection:
A breathed upon word to vivify
And consecrate voiceless earth.

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Scribbled reminders.

A big mistake it is
To hold that life belongs
Within the certain bounds
Of ones that begin and end,
Live and die, generated, disintegrated.
That outside the skins of being
Are voids of senselessness.
Look bravely beyond the borders,
Yet fail to recognise reflections in mirrors:
Self is an organ
Not an organism,
A way of catching the light,
Ice floes on oceans,
A difference of density.

No matter how pink
The clouds of dawn:
The blackthorn blossom remains
White as snow.

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JAPANESE SYMPHONY: 7th MOVEMENT, ‘NEVER GONE’

i shall tell you something,
i shall whisper it:

she is not gone.

that echoed voice,
that memory:
her touch still
as it flows by.
that sudden bloom of feeling:
the turn of her love
towards you.

unlocked from time
we inhabit all our moments,
all our dearest places.

free of this small gravity
radiant as sun and moon
unburdened by horizons,
shade or shadow.

ever in each past,
each future, each present.
become bed and mother
of all indwelling,
scented on every breeze,
blossoming and blossoming
and blossoming eternal.

each pulse is hers, each step,
each tear, each smile.

she is not gone.
we are not gone.
closer than heartbeats,
closer than breath,
the air and whisper of existence,
(as we ever were,
as you ever are).

for but a tragic instant
hedged and deluded,
sweet prison of expression:
a whisper before it leaves the mouth,
before it finds a home.

we should sit down
and weep,
speak of nothing else
but silence,
nothing but the moments.

she is returned
blessing all things
with memories,
with joys and pains,
all the sharp is-ness
of bodies.
jewels to pass down,
fuel for futures.

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SPIRIT OF ELM

Spirit of elm
Sky- ladder
Cloud-crowned
Abode of wings
Chamber of radiance

The eight winds arise from you
The seven oceans flow through you

Pibroch of intelligence
Silent teacher
Resonant tower

One tree is a forest

Traversing the three worlds
Delineator of starlight
Eloquent shaper
Invisible watcher
Guardian of memory
Lord of words
Wonderful councellor
Showerer of light

Uxlemitanos
High elm
Deep noted
Fountain of stillness
Road to clarity
Discomforter of confusion
Diameter of creation

Upholder
Enfolder
Elucidator
Beyond silence.

Each tree species manifests the unity of Creation in its unique energy dance, maintaining and sustaining the continual weaving of the world. They wait and offer endless paths to the contemplation and realisation of wholeness.

The Elm is particularly tuned to channelling silent clarity and wisdom. Brilliant, resonant silence overwhelms confusion and separation. Elm is an invaluable teacher and a protector of personal integrity at the deepest level.

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Tao of Trees.

This world rests on trees: its dream is green.
Wherever we may be, in deserts or on oceans,
We are bathed in the consequence of forests.
We breathe because of trees, we eat through their blessing.
Their shadows fall and cool in every clime.
Their presence is a moderation of hurricanes,
A warming of winter, a shelter and a place of contemplation.

To be able to condense and hold that smooth unity
Is the purpose of Tree Spirit Healing.
It is an empty hand and a quiet voice.

It is hardly anything and yet,
It can make all the difference
Between suffering and joy,
Collapse and integration.

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