And so it begins.
circle of birth re-birth
comes one no longer held by death
meeting in the quiet time
holding my breath
watching the flaming sparkling
splinters of faith
engulfed in the dark
desperately wanting it to happen this time
thoughts turn to afters
tears and pain
spells cast in dreamtime
mainfest and evaporate before dawn's reality
Even when I believed with true and perfect faith I wasn’t sure. It seemed I had to cut my toes off to enable them to fit into the shoes of faith. That was a weakness in me of course. Saints have no trouble in understanding these things and willingly buy bigger shoes or trim their toes with little regard for the consequences. Certainty of purpose gives a clarity of vision beyond pain of martyrdom or sacrifice of sons or reasoned argument, pleading or family ties.
I wonder now about those days and how I dealt with the questions and the fences I fell at and the twists and turns and the glimpses of another reality perhaps.
The meal ends with the first bite, it’s often over just in the imagining thereof like silence, whereof in conversation where angels reside, a blink of the eye and the moment is gone forever.
There’s yearning, yes
But all that counts cannot be counted and the heart takes stock of the bodies excesses. Extreme conditions demand extreme measures in any time or place.
Re-evaluation is painful, in part because of my limited perception of time. Constrained to move forward, curtain of past behind and future’s fog ahead I pound the treadmill of the present moment locked, as it were, in some battle with some unseen enemy behind and before me.
Stopping is the impossible option, death to past and future. Free-fall. Free for all. Chaos of nature’s cycle beyond my understanding or more importantly my control.
Who is it that will not leave me alone, that hounds me out sniffing my scent across time and space, annoying me with compassion and love when what I want is to be alone?
Why was he unrecogniseable in the garden?