“Let us look for secret things somewhere in the world on the blue shores of silence or where the storm has passed” Pablo Neruda
I discovered you in the museum of shipwrecks, I thought of the ships and men made to last the hands of time… I decided to dedicate this song and dance to all souls lost to Poseidon’s wrath… Excerpt from Museum of Shipwrecks H.C.Love
Not finally brought home to God
by those mortals who know
how it all is and organize that
around the edges of words
that make up the towns
and train schedules
of understanding's itinerary, nor even
by the lovely vibrations that linger
after special evening concerts
of happy angels on tour
through form. Instead
brought home by the wind
coming from way out there,
unknown and holy, beyond the sea cliffs
of solitude, the same wind
that since the beginning of longing
has been embraced to the core
by those who have flung their hearts
past the promontory of certainty
out into the open sea: simply to hear
a voice that meets your own
real as a spray of water
full on your face, faithful
as the golden sun
that sets or rises someplace
on earth always, always the horizon
where the One soul of us all
is waveless and deep,
speaking of love night and day.
Blown Home by Jon Fox
“Even if our efforts of attention seem for years to be producing no result, one day a light that is in exact proportion to them will flood the soul.” - Simone Weil
This LIFE with all its many moving parts
torn and tattered hearts
playing out our countless fruitless parts…
frayed and forlorn we carry on.
I do not walk ALONE.
Through tall grass and cobblestone learning from the past on the path of light a beacon set for our true Home.
I do not stand alone.
“Among the many splendored things”
all shines amidst the lands that sing of a country claimed and yet unknown
to people walled in glass and concrete,
forsaking past for a future that moves too fast
into a vast perpetual storm.
Islands filled with cash
high tech bunkers built to last
while our lands and oceans filled with trash
Frayed and forlorn we carry on.
The false gods we treasure so, who rant, prance, and boast,
and do not speak of what matters most.
Countries collective minds filled with hate
while earths shores and oceans filled with toxic waste
Learning from the past you can no longer take it back
frayed and forlorn we carry on…
On the path of light a beacon set for our true Home.
I do not walk ALONE.
Lost yesterday somewhere between sunrise and sunset, two golden hours, each set with sixty diamond minutes. No reward is offered for they are gone forever. - Horace Mann
Beside a massive gateway built up in years gone by. Upon whose top the clouds in eternal shadow lie, while streams the evening sunshine on quiet wood and lea. I stand and calmly wait till the hinges turn for me.
- William Cullen Bryant
Sweet, silent, crescent moon child dreams...
Lit from within.
Shining through the long, slow, dark fade into night.
A strange, mad, raw desire haunts this humble heart...
Mother moon, momentary marvel... Full self melting into the endless void.
Singing the stars to sleep as you disappear and dissolve into the dawns early light.
The whole garden will dissolve, with its stones, its metals its pulps its seeds, its powders its branches, its waters... and as a torrent foams and glides, and leaps from green crest
light rekindles and waxes, fleeing through the parted branches... and we watch it shrink and perish, exhausting itself in force and color... fiber after fiber it will fray leaving nothing behind but blue, blue air, blue water, azure vibrant hue, of this gardens fabulous array.
Comptess de Noailles
IF thou came by water Now, virgin, thou go by land. That despite my sin God for thee wipes away and dries. Conversations, dances, song. All, virgin celebrate thee that though they feel thy ire, with thy visit they rejoice. Everyone joyfully crying They follow thee, sacred Queen, Making many promises to the sun to make it halt... Good journey my lady.
Our lady Guadalupe known as The liberator of waters, they began to call her having a special relationship with that special creature, water... No one better than her to calm the fury of this element... excerpt from Guadalupe by Carla Zarebska