Into the Future

Nothing is guaranteed. Nothing is for certain. All will surely pass. And yet faith in love makes us take another step towards our ageing selves.

Here is another poem I managed to lever out of my word trunk.

It's to celebrate what I hold most dear.

There was an empty bowl
A bell’s distant echo
A sky after the birds flew by

There was a whisper in the night
Pebbles without a stream
To caress them into song

There was a bough fallen on the verge
A litter of autumn’s cast offs
A taste of sunlight beyond the clouds

And then you called in the silence

And then there was singing
A flame licking coals
Light to see by

And then there was verdant joy
Spreading like whiskey
And cheeks aglow with knowing

And there will be
Sunsets and sea and salt
And trinkets on the sand

Delivered into a shared set of footprints
Ever on

Phillip Dec 2008

Japan - what an experience

Two weeks in Japan was just the tip of the iceberg. A marvellous country with friendly, polite people, mind blowing architecture (both old and new), glorious gardens and fabulous public transport. What can I say?

The autumn colour was brilliant and luminous and unforgettable. The world heritage island of Miyajima was the highlight of our fifteen days. Although Nagasaki came very close as a moving, spirited and cosmopolitan city. Just the right size for us and the nostalgia of riding quaint, pint-sized trams only heightened our enjoyment.

You can see more of our Japan photos at http://www.flickr.com/photos/phillipr/.

theNOWhen

The writings of Eckhart Tolle and his DVDs have made a big impression on me.

Our little fortnightly discussion group is thriving on 'A New Earth' and making it meaningful in real life. I have enjoyed his Findhorn Retreat (book and video) and it has resulted in the poem below. It is an attempt to tackle the problem of really living in the present moment.

Let me know what you think.

In this moment:
NOW
The centre is
a circle
You are the centre of
NOW
Around you
arising is
Presence
without form
Love
without form
Intelligence
without form

They enter through the
open window of
NOW

Open to the beauty
of form as it passes
from past to present
to .. who knows where

As it migrates
like a silhouette
of bird wing shadows
against a sunset

As it evolves
like a ripening flower
from folded petal to bloom

And you, in your sky perch
watch
observe
Aware of the lengthening
of days
of the lovingness of the other
of the transparency of time
of the formlessness of spirit
of the space between
THEN and WHEN

Aah!

Four wheels bad - two wheels excellent!

I never thought it would happen; but it has.

We have bought a scooter. A BUG Espresso 150 - in ivory with tan trim. Picking it up this Saturday and having a go at the weekend traffic on my first ride on the road.

It looks a little like the images here but much creamier! I guess it's fitting that this site which itself looks a little like a latte should be called 'cafe' and have this noble chariot as its mascot ...

Time to publish or perish

I have decided that it is time to make this the site where my poems will be seen by the world.

Oh, and I promised a picture this time so here it is.

I shall publish one today. It has been through five drafts so far and this is where I want to leave it. It has benefited from Reny's remarkable editing capabilities and 'wordsmithing'. Thank you, Reny.

The poem is called 'Equilibrium'. Life is a matter of balance and, at last, mine is finely balanced. It's not perfect but time will prove the author of all that can be balanced.

Anyone reading this who wants to feast on a young writer's wisdom is advised to visit http://www.serabeak.com/. What a remarkable young 'spritual cowgirl'.

EQUILIBRIUM

Curled
in rhythmic slumber
her curves
a gilded lantern
lit by the slanting
harvest moon

Her ripeness
beckons
this reaper –
returning,
hungry …

The seasons make
a rug underfoot.
The river bank
a pillow for my head,
and for my bed
golden stalks of wheat
holding sunshine
in their whiskers
as the playful breeze of morning
runs its fingers through
those strands.

She stirs.
I slip into her
the way summer slides into autumn.

Fear lies scattered
on the threshing floor,
pain washed away
on a flood tide of compassion.

Caresses float
like feathers
past the windows of time;
We throw open the shutters
of a resplendent day
and bathe in the graceful glow
of dawn’s early flame.