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EXTRACTS FROM A MIND TERMA

1

Scratched on the eyeball of heaven:
Cloud scripts, lines of vowels winged.
Healed in rain to fall as blue,
Sweet, bitter, sour, salt.
The salt tears, the sweet winds
Rolled and formed, a new language,
A new tongue……

A syllable, mists between the hills.
A spiral seed caught, blessed
And released.
Eye pillow, this white page.
A dream of golden script, a song
On the nature of infinite silence…….

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A drum of skin,
Voice of thunder,
Time and space syncopate.
Truth, a fugue…..

A dancing pattern
Of starlings’ feet
In the snow.
Dakini laughter.
So wonderfully free
Now we no longer exist…..

This language as fabric, satin,
Silk, a filigree, an equation, a map.
Tomorrow’s moments transfixed, melted
Moulded and spoken.
A lace of nerve endings,
Bobbin molecules, probability
Folds of protein.
An unlikely smile,
A figure in the distance
Becoming unreadable.<

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Carved in fumes:
A rainbow science,
A bitter construction.
This breath
Echoes its form.
A terma of space
On the tip of my tongue,
Tasting of juniper…..

The footprints of a wandering mind,
Showing where it has been.
Memory, an exhalation,
A ceaseless blink.
This sullen, steadfast belief
In surfaces.
Extinguished the mystery,
Now it is weighed…….

Seed death with the dawn.
Of many forms, inculcated, remorseless,
Inescapable consonants……

A fascination
With the tuned
Eloquence of moments……

Heart stutters,
Breaks open:
Light revealed,
And a pattern of stars……

Flaming shimmer.
The shape of flowers,
Incense, offerings…..

Sun and moon:
Witnesses…..

Cascade.

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——

2

There are moments moving through time.
There are moments floating in space.
There is a rushing in of seasons.

There is the pressure of words
Forming deep and golden,
Blind, squirming, seeking a voice,
The warmth of meaning.

Clouds of words,
An utterance, a glory of sound,
A liberation, a going forth,
A compression, a forming……

It settles as snow,
Silent.
Silver drifting
Thought,
Dissolving down.

As flakes
Caught on fingertip,
A change of state,
An elemental thing,
Effortless……

The repository of time
Is called
Space……

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LONG LIFE PRAYER

Cradled in sound.
Cradled amongst the ins
And outs of breath, of heart.
Cradled, covered, rocked.

This certain skin touched, warm.
Cradled with word,
Cradled with song.
Cradled in longing,
Cradled in dream.

Swathed,
This long voice,
This sunlit unfolding,
This silken morning air,
These slow, precise moments.

Voice is not
The only voice
(Says the world).
Heart has not
The only song
(Says the slow dusk).

Peace is not
Outside
(Says the river,
Says the floating trees,
Says the flight of wings above,
Says the silence of their passing).

The living sleep, the sleeping dream,
The breathing pauses, the song resumes,
We melt and merge, swathed and cradled.
Delicate is the rainbow,
Impossible to catch.
Delicate the dance:
The balance of remaining.

Cherish and sustain
Uphold and move on.
So little, so few,
A heart to hold all,
A mind of whispers.
Gently, gently,
No lamp flickers.
Scent of evening.

—-

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