OR A SLICE OF LIFE |
BY
JOHN LAIRD
Book III
Copyright © 1998 - 2005
Concocted from
and
Subtly flavoured
by
Daily exposure
to the
Australian Ethos.
Dedicated to
The Family -
around whose tables
rich fare has been offered
- much exchanged.
Allah made poetry a
Cheap thing to buy, and
A simple thing to understand
So that all men might
Profit from it.
Cooking instructions
For FOOD OF THE GODS
All poetry should be read aloud.
The symbolism and often used poetic license
is solely to emphasise the underlying fact.
It adds poignancy, pungency and
flavour to the dish.
DEAR GOD
The concept ---- the plan ---- the work.
Spirit mind body.
It is only thus that we are an image of the maker.
It will be seen that I do not accept the idea of a physical God seated in some physical heaven and concerned with the wars of the Israelites and other judgments on human folly, or even with the creation of universes.
I believe that the invisible thing that we call Life is the nearest we can conceive of the nature of the unknown One. If ever there was a Creator, it clearly pervades the Universe. In our present level of consciousness, it seems likely that the Universe is eternal.
One thing however seems abundantly clear -- The Thing that all men call God is to be found in the human spirit, in all men and throughout all time.
Perhaps in an hundred million years time, we humans in whatever shape we have evolved into, will have greater knowledge, and deeper wisdoms, concerning the ultimate truth.
In spite of our sad history, the human spirit is essentially good, creative and has some instinctive appreciation of immortality, and has almost totally unexplored capabilities.
And so the poems express, however dimly, my faith in the goodness
and worth of life, and that all men whatever our religious beliefs, can
achieve a knowledge of that most mysterious thing which all call God.
The masters teach us to be still.
The treasure is nurtured
In the soundless centre.
It is a great vanity
To seek beyond the self.
The passion and the search in vain?
Does death indeed end all?
At what point, where, and how
Can we transcend the understanding
Ever confirm the faith?
This restless driven mortal
Put on immortality
This turbulent flesh
Meld with the ecstasy of spirit
Access the mystery of love
Transcend the passions.
And achieve in peace
The long sought Grail
Dear God
When can this ever be?
And if ever so
Why then denied to me.
And brave enough,
Compassionate and good
Resourceful and intuitive
And I would
A touch of humour lest I be severe.
And sound good health.
And please, a modicum of wealth.
For you have given us keen eyes
For beauty and the things we prize
The gift of loving too I need.
For you dear God made Eve a maid
And me dear God a man indeed.
And both with thoughtful care
A moderate man you see
And peaceful -- not a prude
For these few simple things I plea.
Dear God -- remember me --
What I'd really like
Dear God
Even now, grown old,
Is a garden
And a woman at my side
To help me tend it
Woman are wonderful friends
And often wonderful gardeners.
Such a loving empathy with life
And this life's a garden
Needing care.
So forget that list
Dear God.
Just take me as I am
And, if there's the chance
Of such a garden
And such a friend
Dear God -- Remember me
Peace in the quiet walk
On sands of ageless sea
Rest by still waters
In the green country
Strong certainty
Such is the peace we find
In seeking Thee --
The Word
Pulsed
Primal atom
Channelled energy
The Word
Partitioned eternity
Formed time, aeons,
And precious moments
The Word
Matched atoms with time
Framed galaxies
Cosmic mysteries
The Word
Decreed Sun, Moon
The morning Star
And lovely Earth
The Word
Seeded land sea and sky
Provisioned all
And peopled earth
Spirit with Word
Still dreaming
Rests
And contemplates the Work
Spirit with Word
A glory brighter than our Sun
Ponders new mysteries
Work not yet begun
Life is spirit; perhaps spirit is life; and the mystics and the prophets of all time have told us that the Creator is spirit.
It may be that the Creator and Life are one.
The names of the creator are many. Our concepts of creation are a
reflection of the self. Our understanding becomes universal when we can
say with simple faith
Through the human race the spiritual concepts of Love, Order and Beauty are clearly evolving, surely inspired by the creative Spirit and men are nearer their Creator, when they nurture these principles and so order their affairs.
I believe that we can reach a richer understanding of creative love through prayer and meditation, and that the full development of mankind lies along this way. We clearly have a long struggle ahead before the more savage elements of the raw material of life are modified or supplanted by our emerging consciousness.
I believe that the human race is evolving toward a different creature, and that the evolutionary process can and is being assisted, and hastened by the conscious direction of good men and women, all over the world.
The work clearly demands long years of selection and effort and willing hearts, but will be accomplished.
Our long evolutionary history shows that not all men will so develop.
And everything about us be
Poured into lifes rich cup
Till every sense and every mood
Of soul be lifted up
Toast with the richest wine the faith
That binds men to the truth
Drink deep to the eyes and ruby lips
The loyalties of youth
And fill a pot with that rich wine
The fruitfulness of earth
And toast with awe the harvest yield
The mystery of birth
Come, drink -- until the senses glow
With peace and genial mirth
And praise with love the Unknown One
Who made the fruitful earth
Steady and warm and strong
And tho firmly opposing
Yet urging me along
There's a vast commotion
In far deep eastern seas
Gives life and energy
To the rough Westerlies
Feeding the great wind storms
Brooding in tropic seas
These in their time begat
Cyclone and hurricane
And our own tropic wet
It was these blustering winds
Drove east the worn explorers
Of these warm uncharted seas
Lovely and dangerous seas
Such men -- such little ships
Such winds and such seas.
Brave men, too weary more to roam
And long hard months from havens rest
Turned East with winds that promised home
Their worn sails tight with Nor-West breeze
They followed glad to kinder seas
To islands with their deep content
And failed the Southern Continent
Cook mastered that rough wind
Tacked West, with fixed intent
And knew his purpose safe in hand
First man to chart the long sought land
Perhaps traced out some faint rich scent
Of green; The wind borne hint of flowers
Earth magic in the winds warm showers
It was the strong rough Westerlies
Bore patient Cook on stormy wings
Taking the long strange coast to chart
Each cape and headland, each deep bay
Each hidden shoal, each island cay
Marked each its place, gave each its name
Cook richly earned his high acclaim
His patient skillful seaman's fame.
We all look out on life
Thru some such prison bars
Some watch the stars
To them the world has beauty
And the pent spirit aspires
To brighter goals, and drives
With clear purposes
To reach the hearts desires.
Others, by mischance, or sadly, Choice
See but their bars, and the mire
Deny the vision and sadly do not heed
The guidance of the silent inner voice
Weary they trudge the swamps of life
Never to see beyond
Their wretched misery
The wearing toil; the futile strife.
Awaken -- be thou true man.
Look up to the stars and see
Some vision of the spirit that you are
Look up to the stars.
And be free --
All Life is one, and yours, in that eternity.
Hunger
We hunger
All things above
Hunger the good companion
The understanding
Of such as we love
Hunger
Yes we hunger
Spirits ecstasy
In prayer; in contemplation
Thou Unknown still
We hunger Lord for Thee
My body, yes the well loved flesh
Grants all that love demands
In loves sweet trust
Let love be sated
As our flesh commands
As love we ever must.
But I pray you, dearest love
As you love me
Hold me in glad surrender love
But leave me free
So I made a revised "street " version, as widely popularised by certain film makers and other media moguls, who seem determined to reduce every aspect of the good life to the corrosion of banality -- human experience at its most shallow violent level
So often it brings to mind the ancient caution;
Take what you want, say the Gods, Pay later!
You're great
And I'm pretty good, I guess
But, hang on a minute, mate
While I undress
That's good so have it again
Take your fill
Just remember
When you've finished
I belong to me still
The sharp hard mouth
With its wide perpetual grin!
But the red button eyes
Reveal a bright spirit within
Those strong boned agile legs
Move with a natural grace
Effortless -- elegant
With their long measured pace
They are the spirit of the wild bush
Spirit of the lonely arid space
A spirit with the strange wild heart
Of this ancient dry wild place
Shame that this vast wild land
Must deal with graceless sense
Such needless death they suffer
Deep massed on boundary fence.
The fading of the light
And dark again
I am no longer
Fearful of the dark
The dark brings sleep
And dreams again
The night with its dreams
Brings peace again
In peace I understand
And the night brings peace
But to wake; the day
Brings pain again
The day is a stern reality
But I would rest
I find my peace
In the quiet mystery
Of the Dreaming night.
Desire and purpose
Meld in prayer
Faith seals the work
Spirit and power
Invoked within
Rest all in faith
The work accomplished
By another hand
And in another place
It is the Father
Does the work
Rest then in faith
The grateful heart
Assuaged
Sings wordless praise
He whistles well
And warbles free
His morning song
By the old pine tree
And I whistle to him
And he answers me
And watches me walk
By the big pine tree
Cheerful he warbles his song each day
A song of praise in his magpie way
And I echo his song as I pass him by
Praise of the Maker, bird, tree and sky.
"And A Mist Watered The Garden" - Genesis I
The grasses sigh as live things gently creep
About their business
This warm still night so far
A slow still cloud
Invades the moons meld light
In slumberous quiet all around is still
Even the tides seem hushed
On golden sands this night
And quiet reigns
While life attends its will
But now the silent night
Stirs in valley and hill
And the broadening light
Wakes all; and sun
With clamorous brilliance
Breaks the peace of night.
He wanted perfection befitting a king
I guess, but perfection, no such thing
Ever was framed in the human form
From Adam the first to the latest one born.
Eve too had her faults, and her daughters still
Are not quite perfected, though they fulfil
All the demands that imperfect man makes
From passion and love, to the baking of cakes.
Will you mother my children, be a mate in distress
Share in my simple joys, comfort and bless
Laugh with me, live with me, work with me, play
At this great game of life till the close of the day.
Will you my darling walk lover and bride
With a man and a husband and friend at your side
For you're only a woman, to that I agree
But the woman of all the world to me --
I had asked would she consider marrying me, and said, as I suppose millions of men have said to their woman --
"I think you're wonderful."
She replied -- matter of fact common sense as always
"I'm only a woman."
Later that evening I wrote this and posted the original draft to her.
We went together for six months or so.
Then the war came and altered all our lives.
She said "Yes - quickly, before you go -- I want a baby to have in case you don't come back."
What wonderful woman they were, tens of thousands like her looked life and its risks full in the face.
As it happened fate interfered again and I spent the war years in the Base Pay Office.
Mac -- our best man and my good mate was killed in Italy. His girl
remained a war widow all her life.
What wonders would have Dante writ
Had deep impassioned he
And lovely Beatrice wed?
Or would perhaps have both
Been well content with bed.
In deepest need I found
Warm comfort
And quiet wisdom
On the shoulder
Of a loving friend
Spirit hungers after spirit
Dear God. Be Thou with me.
Today her mood is a caress
Flaunting the beautiful blue dress
Sweet dream of peace; and I too dream
With her of peace this day, this night
By quiet sea and calm moonlight
Only to dream
To sleep and drift in idle play
Nor ever feel again
The restless beat, the pulse of life
Nor feel its slow decay
Only to sleep
And only dream thru sunbright day
Not evermore
The slow disease of toil
That wears mans strength away
Only to dream
Only to sleep again; leave us
Nevermore to roam
Here be sweet forgetfulness
We are indeed far far away from home
But -- Odysseus -- true man indeed
Awakened them, Not so, cried he
Drove them cursing and lamenting
Back to their ship and destiny
Denied of rest; long years to roam
Of all only Odysseus
Will reach the haven loved, of home.
Our hates corrode the spirit
And their acids eat
Our delicate inner parts
Disease and sickness cheat
Our human hearts
Sweet peace is worth
All our resentments
When simple forgiving
Leads us to love
Gives comfort on the way
And leads us gently
To heaven here on earth
Rose had a hard life
As well we all knew
Rose should have died young
Round about two
Her dad was a boozer
A bad drunken sot
The worst kind of abuse
Rose copped the lot
Rose could have left him
She stuck with it there
Mum too was a victim
And needed her care
Then Mum died and Dad
Brought his friends home to use
Rose for their pleasure
And pay for his booze
Mum gone from her side
Rose had no reason to stay
Rose died broken hearted
Rose gave it away
Rose was barely sixteen
But had given her best
To a cruel rotten father
Dear God grant her rest.
I watched that edge
So clear defined to me
The white -- the ever changing edge
Shaped by the hidden energy
Of the ancient sea
It seemed to be
That quiet revealing moment
So clear, so powerful to me
A vision of eternal purpose
As the blue wave curled
Part of the living soul of me.
This was at Seal Rock, a lovely hideaway a little north of Newcastle.
It was a very still hot day. The sea was quiet -- no surf, just this one wave breaking quietly as the sea floor absorbed the energy -- which is the wave.
Fern watched entranced, for an hour or so, and later with the transferred energy painted the picture -- beautiful.
I too, watched those little waves, but they had a different message for me perhaps the same message, expressed in a different medium.
Down the road and away boys
I'm hitting the track again
Glad to be on the move boys
Hoofing the open plain
Padding the hoof again boys
I've done enough work for a while
Glad to be on the road again
For many a workless mile
Cook here has filled my tucker bag
Meat tea salt flour and bread
And I'm away and walking
And watching the hills ahead
Padding the hoof again boys
I'm hitting the track today
As soon as the smoko's over
I'm down the road and away.
His teacher thought that it had something, so read it to the class who approved. "Tell your father" said teacher, "It's a pretty good poem."
I have met many a Swaggy in my day. Mostly single men unable to make
a go of life on their own. Nowadays we give them U.B. and they develop
a lifestyle of a kind somewhat better than that of the old swaggies.
So many prisoned souls
Darker hopeless
Deeper in misery
For all my faith in Thee
How can such be?
All the rich wealth
The unutterable beauty
Of this most lovely world
Squandered and put to brutal waste
In gross ungodly war.
Why struts Mars so
Upon Olympus?
Thunders so at heavens
Most delicately crafted gate
Our human heart.
With deepest awe we trace these things
Back to the primal atom
The steadfast proton, its one electron ring
This pure simplicity -- primal Mother
Of yesterdays seven thousand years?
And the long reach of such other
Tomorrows as may be,
Their joys and tears
What latent energies
Does this simple atom bind
To mould the texture
Of our individual -- profound
Our untouchable human mind
Koestlers ghost indeed
Creations jest
What awesome powers concealed
What futures in that atom rest
What latent magic's
Are yet to be revealed
Thou knowest best
We pray thy understanding Lord
Till all stands revealed.
Arthur Koestlers ghost is the ineluctable mystery of Life; the improbable emergence of life from the structure of the atom is still the primal puzzle. The gap between mind and matter has haunted, and still haunts our deepest thinkers.
The man in the street may not care " Have another drink mate ", but any man who has stood for a moment in prayer; any human who has felt the fire of his own spirit; every aspirant who has felt the sublime consciousness of life, for them the gap is bridged. The ghost is laid by that inward knowledge of the spiritual nature of life.
It is between the grey world of theoretical knowledge and living experience that Koestlers ghost walks.
Spirit lives and glows and sparkles with the flame of life in infinite variety.
Clearly, to me, life produced the atom. It is hardly credible that
the atom produced life.
The word is a rich gift
My children bring to me
And surely Lord
As rich a gift to Thee
How often have I turned gladly at the word "Father", only to find it is some other father being called.
To be greeted by "Father" at any reunion is always a lovely moment.
The loved one told me that she had seen a rather similar verse but many years ago. I am not surprised; it must be a common human experience. Common to all races and times.
Another delightful reminder of our shared humanity.
I saw a great stone wall.
It curved to right and left, inward
Where a great gate there was open wide
Huge shadowed trees majestic leafed each side
And I walked unafraid
Through that still dark shade
Then came another voice
Well loved, oft remembered
But whose form I could not see
Said, quiet and still to me.
"Fear not dearest heart
All will be well"
"Four" said my mentor.
And from that shaded place
Came to a clearer brighter space
And to a second gate
Though smaller, but of the first, the Mate
Here the path made way
Thru many a lovely day
And at that paths end, another fate
Intervened; and opened for me
A neat white painted wicket gate
And the quiet loved voice
With sweet assurance said
"Fear not -- there is no kindlier fate."
"Three" tolled my mentor
And no more would say
And in my dream I had no choice
But walk that way
Demanded by the mentors voice
Beyond the wicket --
Flowers! --
Oh bright and happy day
Such beauty there
This was our cottage garden
Made sweet with loving care.
But the dream urged me more
No lingering for me there.
The unseen gentle voice, but murmured "love"
And I sensed the precious presence with me there.
"Two" Intoned the mentor
And there beyond the flowers
That well remembered
Ancient iron framed gate
That measured many of our happy hours
There lay the kitchen garden.
Most opulent with earthly bounty
The very horn of plenty
Was garnered there --
"One" My mentor said
And in his tone I heard him say " the end. "
Before me that last gate
Beyond this gate -- the field
Far reaching -- a peace filled memoried rest
Full coloured with great drifts
Of wild flowers. ( I saw that these
Bright blooms were gathered store
Of early happy hours )
Great shaded trees made nest
For many birds,
And on the verge of that most restful scene
A great wide river ran
Deep cleansing for the wearied race of man
And mingled with the everlasting sea
And I became a part of all that wonder
I was One
With those great trees
With the flowering beauty of the garden
And the rich bounty of its yield.
And the peace that blossomed
Through the broad reaches of the flowered field
And the surge and song of the ancient sea.
And the bright life giving sun
All these were me
Such was the wonder and the mystery of that dream.
And She again was with me. All was One.
And the strong earth currents
Flooding thru fruitful soil
The rich abundant beauty
Such harvest; such little toil
It is of Thee
The rich abundance
And the beauty sing
Always of Thee.
Eastward
Or rather, further West
For strange as it seems
Is where East lies
This moment dreaming
That same sun
Though setting here
Tinges their morning skies
With rose
And gold on those far hills
Transmutes at lovely dawn
Their snows
The days late meal our families share
Full scented in our darkling skies
As our late sun awakes them there
The rich scents of their breakfasts rise
Encroaching night
Heralds the wide world round
The swift awakening
Of dawns pale light
So life and death we say
Are but the morn and eve
Of our eternal day
Passion waking
Rousing the warm flesh
And the nerve.
The gathering fire
Resolving body and spirit
Blazing desire
Care abandoned
All fear surrendered
Utter giving
Electric skin
Belly and breast
Head heart and hands
All -- All committed
The enfolding flesh
The terrible fire
Shared
How sweet the release
How sweet
The hard won peace.
Never great burial cortege
Never great funeral pyre
Never a nation mourning sad
Never the sacrificial fire
Tis we outgrow the ancient fealty
The spirit is a living growing thing
Our clearer vision of reality
The deep upwelling of our spirits being
In proper time the old gods die
Lived out their day, played out their part
Gold, timber, stone, all broken lie
Sad mirrors of mans striving heart
We welcome now a brighter day
Surcease from ancient savage rod
The Voice within reveals the Way
Souls ecstasy and living God
Now mentor of the human mind.
Where now the warm
The loved embrace
The treasured warmth
The tenderness
The lost forever face.
The spirit grants all men
To sacrifice as must
In love in life in sport
The selfless sacrifice
Is purest quality
Of mans deep inward trust
In all our humankind
We see the generous gift
Quick to sacrifice self
To the unfeared death
When life demands a life
To some deep urgent call
It is the splendid heritage
Of all who draw breath.
Strong canopy of singing green
A thousand small songs blend
Songs of the thousand leaves
And ever the song that they sing
Is "Margaret sweet Margaret
She planted and nurtured the tree."
Quiet! He is one with the song
With the wind the leaf and the tree
And Margaret, his Margaret
Who planted and nurtured the tree.
Some future flight of time
Will see us change again
The age old bony frame
Will sure -- if slowly -- change
And function for us with
A vastly different brain.
New laws, undreamed of yet
Inform our children's minds
They will cast curious
Demanding searching eyes
Towards Magellan's mysteries
And search thru vaster skies
Such splendid children
Of that new world to be
They well may know and bind
New powers from the mind
And paths thru space may find
To lead us nearer Thee
Dear God, the wonder of
Creations human mind.
Concepts of such beings already exist in many human minds.
And she first woman
Look first on Adam
Lovely she was indeed
The Creator
Made all things perfect
(That which we are today
Bears witness to the long hard years
Of human wear and tear)
But Adam and his Eve
Stood then perfect there
What did they say
There in the hot sun
The quiet of that garden
Their beauty and their bodies
Shaped to His purpose
Each in their separate way
On this
Creations brightest loveliest day
Did they
Accept each other
Without doubt or question
From their Creators hand
And understand
Perhaps He counselled them
Offered instruction -- some kindly words
Talked about bees with them perhaps
Or birds
What mutual interest there
What wonder -- what wild surmise
Each drawing confidence from
The rapt approval in each others eyes
Eve eyeing and comparing
Adams strong chest
With the soft contour
Of her own gentle breast
Her feminine daintiness
Measured against
His sturdy strength
Intrigued at the differences
About the hips
And Adam somewhat troubled
By Eves lips
She felt a confidence within
Approving what she saw
And smiled at him
And both stared -- wide eyed
At the wonder growing in his loins
Both deep aroused to share
The knowledge and the passion
The deep desire shown there
Then chaste and virgin pair
Clear understood it all
With quickened pulse
All senses glowing
The fierce electric fire flowing
Gave all
To that pure ecstasy
Eve took him to her
As it was ordained
Remember
He shaped them for this work
With planned deliberation
Designed and contrived it all
Before the Fall
Adam sharing the ecstasy
And the joy of their most urgent need
Gave gladly of his own rich seed
All her maternal need
Now his most tender care
What revelation
For this pristine virgin pair
United with their makers purpose there
The passion and the purpose
Now fulfilled
Rested in peace
Each in the others arms
As Thou Lord willed.
One is surprised that the churches have not yet elevated her to a special sainthood, equal in glory to the beloved Mary.
Surely it is because Eve saw that the fruit was good that we enjoy self consciousness and the consciousness of immortality.
The next great quantum leap for the evolving human race will inevitably be an even richer unfolding of the same cosmic consciousness.
Granted such unfolding development, it is possible, as Isaac Asimov
projected, that our children will people the Galaxy, as Eve peopled earth
from fabled Eden.
The sea is molten ore
Glossed with cold leaden light
The surface heaves and sways
No surf, no wave this night.
The hill is leaden grey
Steel blue the level light
The long miles lost in gloom
This overcast grey night.
Sky is the dark floor of heaven
The sea is the dark shield of land
Grey light fading between them
Light dying on dark silent strand.
Light fades. No moon no stars
Will shine for us this night
Home fires; light in the window
This weary souls delight.
Night and day
And the hours
Measure our work and play
This instant moment
This is the joyous now
Or is our discontent
Beyond all thought
And deeper yet
Than contemplation
The meaning and reality
Of time and space
Defy imagination
But now
This precious instant
Full plain I know, I see
Dear Lord, it is this moment
I am with Thee.
The old blue dress is soft and gay,
The gold sun is her bonnet
A soft breeze stirs the old blue dress,
And the white foam frills upon it.
Most beautiful the sea today
Sweet peace is quiet upon it,
And sun gold light warms golden sands
And all who wander on it.
Most beautiful the sea today
The cool breeze gently blowing
The blue sky arching over all
And the blue dress flowing.
Most beautiful that old blue dress,
With its white laced frill of foam
Most beautiful the warm gold sun
My heart, and my desire is home.
Any wisdom
Of good or ill
Imparted or gathered here?
Stolen or gifted or earned?
Is aught from our living learned?
That we take with us there,
Treasured or fearful
Into that Death.
Or go we wholly innocent
Without consent
As we were born into here?
Leave life stript of all,
Emptied of all experience
Go, utterly innocent
Into that Death.
Or do we go, Dear God,
Enriched and experienced
Embracing all life
Loves, hates, all joy and strife
Full fruits of our living take we,
Into our Death?
Neither Alpha or Omega
Of the fierce reality
Are yet revealed, nor yet searched out
Nothing, but nothing
There is nothing for man to see
Beginnings unknown still
But all men
Have dreams,
And more than dreams of Thee
Mans soul has yearned to know
Throughout our anguished history
Unknown still
Host of infinity
Eternal dreamer
What part have we with Thee?
In the long dreaming
In our deep yearning
We have great need of faith
Who stand before, and in great awe
Of the teeming infinity
Of the yet to be.
Our aboriginal people call it Kurumba, the Chinese - Chi, Our Russian
friends - Plasma, the Islamic people - Allah, and the Christian world is
still greatly confused between the old Hebrew concept, and the new concept
of Jesus. Reich called it Orgone, Bernard Shaw - the Life Force, and Teilhard
Chardin sees it as "Nous". The Egyptians called it "Ka" and the Indians
of North America saw it clearly as the "Great Spirit". All races know of
it, all worship it in one form or another. An endless and fascinating speculation,
never, I guess, to be resolved. We can dismiss the science fiction of animo
acids and electric charges, though God knows, the thing that we are talking
about somehow appears to express itself in the primal atom. Whence and
what that atom?
We plead forgiveness
That plea is heard always
With loving understanding
In our own sore heart
We cry for love
That lonely cry
Wakes infinite compassion
In the lonely heart
Each weary soul
Crying the souls release
Finds the deep strength within
His own hearts peace
The heart His own true altar is
Here not elsewhere -- never apart
Eternal and loving He dwells
Deep in the human heart.
Priest, Friar and Prelate
Dark dungeon or walled cell
Gave little peace, though armed
With the inquisitors hell
Bell, Crystal or Tripod
Idols in stone, brass or wood
Myriads of such graven images
Have granted little of good
Portentous voices prophesying doom
Proclaiming vengeance, sacrifice and war
Drained untold millions of the gift of life
But never solace entered thru that door
The hot scents of burnt offerings
The futile flood of tears
No magic from such sacrifice
Has comforted thru the long sad years
Oh long and bitter reign
The scourge of sword and spear
Vast weapons of this century
All add to hate; all cause of bitter fear
No none of these
Not one in smallest part
Through cruel fated centuries has healed
Or soothed one aching heart
Such deeps within
The dark sub-conscious world
We daily plumb in prayer
There gleams
Oftimes Dear God
A light
But briefly glimpsed
Too often how obscured
By many veils ------
Veils, did I say
By walls; adamantine.
By battlements
Moats and marshes
And bitter mountain passes
Guarded by Orcs -- Balrogs
Sauron himself stands
Grim contestant there
And the one gate
In that great wall
Neither Strider nor Gandalf
Nor Queen nor King
Not even Frodo,
For all his innocence
That door no man can open
Save myself
That door, thou knowest is,
Each man for himself
Must fit and turn the key
It opens only from within
I know, Dear God
I know it's up to me.
Tolkein's magnificent trilogy as are all great works, an analogy of the Way.
A modern gospel, a new Pilgrims Progress with a setting beyond our time, but the same timeless message for mankind.
I see the answer clear enough
The purpose is to bring
Love into the world
And from love we know
Order and beauty will most surely flow
And every soul who brings
One act to this
Deservedly has earned
However small
A place in bliss
Which atom guided Victor Chang's sure hand
Or made the happy choice
For La Stupenda's lovely lilting voice?
Controls the pilots most deft mastery
Of machine -- space and velocity
Of Donald Bradman's bat
Alan Border's agile eye and hand
Or Chappel's last slow ball
What atom indeed
Within us so determines
The fateful moment
Which when taken, is success
Perfection of times circumstance
Or the precious moment missed
Is but disaster!
What atom indeed --
Without a natural love
Primal but potent within electric rings
What but a living loving heart
In these ethereal -- these eternal beings
These atom building blocks
This universal heart of all created things
Which atom does
With understanding say
I choose " The better way? "
This poet believes that in a million years we will be still be discovering new powers, energies and revelations in the atom.
Singers -- musicians -- artist or orchestra -- cricketers -- footballers
-- ice skaters -- all sports, and ballet and good chess.
Human excellence is beautiful in every field. And what role models
for the rest of us.
What is man that thou
Should magnify him
Or that thou should
Job 7 - 17
Set thy heart upon him
Or should visit him
In the morning.
With Job, felt the cold of death
Without hope within me
But Spirit said
Not so! Stand firm
For He has made man
Just a little lower
Than the Angels
Psalm 8 - 4
And crowned him
With honour and glory
And given him dominion
Over all the work of His hands
Stand firm then,
In confidence of Him
He has great care for you.
Consider the ant -- or the flea
I am more astounded to see
That these critters display
In a wonderful way
That they are often more clever than me
Consider the ant or the flea
I am always astounded to see
That on the whole
They seem to have soul
And seem much more happy than me
( Than me -- Poor miserable grumbling me. )
Consider the ant and the flea
I am sadly astounded to see
That these tiny chaps
Are better perhaps
In many ways off, -- than me.
So pity me -- thou busy ant
Thou lively careless flea
Have care for me.
I think she felt His presence
Near her --saw the grave nod
Of compassionate consent
The loving understanding eyes
Acknowledge her choice
And clearly knew His purpose
His true
His undisclosed intent.
He could have intervened
He could have raised His voice
Said "No" to Eve
Denied her fateful choice.
Eve then did surely understand
The work He planned
And let the plot unfold
For the consummation
Of the purposes He planned
For ages yet untold
The choice was Eves
And Eve would know it her's
Not His command
We too like Eve
We too have choice, of good or ill
Fruits of that tree of knowledge
Ripen about us, and we must make
Our own choice still
Rage until the bruised heart break
Rage until we learn
That every blow we inward take
But drives us -- fated drives us
Deeper, Christ save us,
Into the bitter hell we make,
We for ourselves, do make.
Dear God Thy Grace
To teach how gain release
From deep and self inflicted wounds
How gain release?
Forgiveness is the only way
To gain hearts peace
And so I live and am content
With the clean country air
And beauty close about me
The order of the busy town
The blue and ever changing sea.
And friends and folk I meet
And family
The secrets and the joys
Of my own house and heart
All simple but all dear to me
Small world indeed, its breath
Is warm about me
And understanding grows
Of fateful chance -- of pain, of death.
Of all, I am. A living part
Accepting all for good or ill
The peace of night the changing days
And reconciled to all its ways
And live, with understanding heart.