Byzantine Bindings

Thursday, 22 October 2015

Morning Prayer

Here we are then.

The journey had taken a lot longer than either of them had imagined.
Better start thinking about supper and a shelter for the night.
The valley looked it's best at this time of year with autumn well established and winter coming on there was enough warmth in the colour of the turning leaves to keep the soul fed.
I'll get some branches for the fire.
Meet you at the cave.
Perched above the river, about which hung a gentle shroud of mist, sat the cave which would provide them shelter for the coming nights. It would need a clear out she thought, after the winds had shaken leaves about her mouth.
That sweet smell of death hung around the stillness of early evening. He arrived with the branches, some kindling and the bark from a silver birch.
Within no time the fire was hissing and crackling with life and the entrance to the cave filled with warmth and light.
The unpacking of rucksacks and the ordering of sleeping arrangements took no time at all and before the light dimmed dinner was cooking.
In the open with no sounds except those of nature a panoply of stars twinkling inspiration light and a stilling of busy minds an easiness entered the mind and wrapped itself around them.

missing something
glowing in the darkness
something creaking in the distance

She saw the worm
in the garden
maggoty mouldy smelling of death
sweet sickly story told under a bush
he heard the story
pretended he didn't
they shared the story
slippery slimy
needed nor wanted
for nothing that moment
worm headed off
back to the soil
stars and sun.

There's a kind of knowing that isn't to do with reason. It has to do with rawness hunger and life. It often comes in moments or reverie, times of suspension and those off guard moments when love reaches out and touches us.

Moments of holiness inbreaking of the kingdom, if that's what you believe.
epiphanies tiny wonderments
threaded on life's silken thread.
deliberately ephemeral
smoke and mist
dancing in the minds eye
looking inward
catching the light
momentary glimpses
fragments of the eternal
half heard
gone in a flash
lasting forever
vision of the grail
mumbling thank you
stumbling construction
helplessly into her arms
melting hopelessly
the pain of separation

"She loves me she loves me not"
and the weary daises woven crown
upon her head
grace those moments
lily of the valley
star of the sea
rose of sharon
fountain of life
trapped in the broken fenced
stained glass window of hope
east window
welcoming dawn

Evidence of something
etched into the oaken floor
lines of compassion flowing
through time
bearing witness
crafted by eternity
polished by curious pilgrims
encouraged but not overly confident
wait and watch
linger long enough to know
allowing some muddling faith
to breach the unforgiving
nature of the day

Piles of stone
sitting in the river
water worn
noted by no-one
once served another mistress
in a time when events moved slower
space seemed thinner
grace flowed in every moment

Tomorrow the sunrise, but before that dreams delivered by timeless sleep, and a world in which everything was possible and nothing existed but this amen moment.