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Posts Tagged ‘water’

The Stones Of Words In The Rivers Of Meaning

‘Sacred’

Is the most precious thing.

That which is unpartitioned.

That reaches roads longed for.

That unfurls sky landscapes unbounded.

That is the most precious.

That fills and empties and makes whole possible.

That wraps meaning in glory and silence.

That goes beyond meaning to mean more.

That flows beyond edges still singing.

That is utter silence enfolding, accepting.

That swells and feeds and gives succour.

That cannot be defined by limitations.

That is beyond and within.

The engine of breath,

The longing to exterminate failure.

To awaken, to sparkle, to feel more, to perceive more.

To stand on the edge of a precipice,

To leap and let go and not care.

To recalibrate, to forget.

To sing eternally.

To be welcomed home.

To be unsullied.

To become the story.

To be magnified.

An infinite expanse of meaning,

A means to go beyond here.

The awen – an inflowing and an outflowing.

Exhilaration.

It can possess but cannot be possessed.

That which carries us away.

Exponential expansion of fractal geometries.

Everlasting metaphor.

Edge of the mysterious void.

Extinction of destruction.

Edges dissolve

And we expand

Into the sacred more.

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GREEN ROCK

Green rock, black root

time is the river

that shapes this world.

Green rock, black root

sentience emerges

from realising relationship.

Green rock, black root

life is born from the seed

of sullen gods who found love.

Green rock, black root

this world, so full of sorrow,

this world, so full of bliss.

The familiar will fall away,

as leaves before the autumn wind,

as leaves before winter.

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SUMMER RIVER

Golden edged

Summer river

Rocks cooling their toes.

Golden river

Summer gnats

All diminuendo

Cooling their old bones

Grey worn rocks in summer heat

Squatting in midstream

Soft summer rivers

Water folding up sunlight

Shoals of darting fish

High summer

We see them gather

To cool their feet:

These venerable rocks

Dreaming in the slow waters

Time flows silent

By the river side

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WATER ALDER WOOD WORD

and still
the waters
still and flow.

wild words
wood tangled
green and shaded.

each of us
each floated pattern
in laid out
sleep and bliss
always all ways
to trenched
trembled seas,

these dreaming
deep pools
dissolving doubt.

dust raised
in sunlit shaft
birdsong and a
diamond smile

life thus lifted,
and flow the cool waters
all the waters, all the waters
blessing cool
and washing clean.

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SUN SET 1

Rock throat

slaked sung.

Water song

white til

mirror still.

River light licks

slick grey rock.

Cotton grass

nods spun

iron red pools

Raven crags,

stern chapels,

catch last light,

song sent

down cools

river throat,

Spin then

whorled, a thread

white song.

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ALL THE WATERS

I cannot stay and I cannot go.
My heart melts like ice
On the high valleys in April
And I am given, melted to crow
And the cry of curlew.
Taken up and laid down:
All cool rain on the grasses
Of the rolling meadow,
A drift of cloud, a mist,
A risen vapour turning,
An Ascension to light,
A transfigured condensation.

All the waters of the world
Are one river.

By the bent and tangled hawthorn
We wait and wait long
For the return of blossom.
Yet we always are surprised-
The wealth of cream incense
Laid upon it, arching down,
The fragrant dew,
The hum of bees,
The expanse of growing summer.
The heart bursts open
To the horizon’s edge of light.
Warmed and belonging
A simple home
A simple return.

For all the waters of the world
Are one river.

And all the lost and drowned,
Flesh taught as dolls,
Roll now to and fro
In the breakers
On the tourist beaches.
Their last breath unheard,
Surrendered to the waters.
Their names and origins
In the thick, green weeds
Feeding tides and fishes,
Rolling, sightless, a little more,
Til they, dissolved in bubbles,
And rising now, meet the air they were refused
In the lands of milk and honey,
The brambled cliffs,
The stain of fallen fruit,
The rag-tag remains.
Bitter will be the tears, bitter and salt
As they ever are,
Dubbed with senseless poisons
And reasons and reasons why
And why not.

How long
before we learn
All the waters of the world
Are one river.

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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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