There is an incredibly subtle and powerful calculating industry of modern dislocation, where that which is deep and lives in the silence within ourselves is completely ignored. The surfaces of our minds continue to be seduced by the power of images. With the continued netting of everything, chosen images can immediately attain universality.~John O’Donohue
Instead of hectoring, I try patience,
a prodigious reveal of common sense.
Taciturn as my solitude reveals
miracles thundering these boxcar wheels
revolve on tracks I’d thought abandoned, dark
and echoing across the night, they spark
the revolutionary thoughts, inspire
the will to revivify my fire.
Inspired by: Taciturn, the Extraordinary in the Ordinary–listening to a train thundering through last night, Hectoring, Prodigious and the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt “rev“. And the book Anam Cara by John O’Donohue.
The earth, the air, the fire, the water, return, return, return, return.~Libana
In my new space, a place for everything
and everything in its place, so don’t bring
me anything. Avarice in its pride
must subside. I have enough. Glorified
gold-digging doesn’t interest me. Pity
the hollow-eyed cadaverous zombies
who reach for what’s outside themselves. I see
when hardened pieces of my heart, unfree
emerge to snark and complain bitterly,
a sign to welcome what’s been prisoned, free
I wake from my past trance, within I dance
nothing out there can heal this hurt. Perchance
the wellsprings of my soul, which freely flow
can bring a fiery stream and set aglow
into the furnace of my focus’ fire
for deep healing is what I most desire
And all the desiccated places burst to flames
when aired and watered, grounded, claimed and named.
Inspired by: Hollow, Furnace, Avarice, Pity and the aftermath of a powerful exercise from John O’Donohue’s Anam Cara.
Tell no one else, only the wise/For the crowd will sneer at one/I wish to praise what is fully alive,/What longs to flame toward death.~Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (translation by John O’Donohue)
Reading the morning propaganda, sigh
and come alert. Everything’s veiled, denied
the truth perverted, misaligned, weighted
by whoppers. Vérité infiltrated
so the skate on flimsy premises yields
distractions, causes inaction. Minefields
of lies drive bickering, the trickery
cast like a spell. I know it well. Sickly
the population submits. Dissonance
imprisons us. Sing now in innocence
and joy. Grounded in earth, rediscover
mirth. Life’s close companion death uncover.
Inspired by: Everything, Veiled and the inspiring book Anam Cara.
Featured image: a gorgeous sycamore tree which sadly only exists now in this photo and my memory.