The world has so little soul

Because it has forgotten its earliest journey;

Its journey in the darkness and the silence of the womb:

In a time before time began,

When the Eternal spoke to us more than this day

And I did not think I had so much to hear or to say.

 

Alone was everything and nothing

Because I had all I could need

Floating in an ocean of contentment,

Feeling the warmth

Of my maker’s every thought, word and deed

For my good.

 

Should I forget this heaven so quickly?

Could I compare anything to its glory?

If only I would remember

That it is the memory of my soul;

That soul which calls to me

Apart from the world, alone

In the silence and the darkness and the peace.

 

Release me and I will return there;

We all shall,

Because it is only that journey

Which is even truer than our blood

When it comes to our good.

 

Yes, each womb holds the eternal pilgrimage,

The soul of the Eternal;

And it can never be held highly enough

In reverie or esteem;

It is why Mary, the mother of the Christ

Is honored so.

 

Go, bend your knees,

Close your eyes,

Find your peace

And remember your eternal soul,

Your first pilgrimage.

2014.01.22.2300 ©

 

If dakness and silence

Are the marks of the soul,

One can see how the world

And even sunlight

Could take its toll;

And how duty or prayer or

A routine of work

Must be considered with attention

And more than a modicum of care

That the soul of the giver and receiver

Might be there

In an exchange

That leaves each one less fractured

And more whole.

 

So the journey continues

Over years of ambition

With too little thought

That we find some contrition

For the misdirected, unreflected,

Confused, soul-less human condition

Where we look to another tomorrow as our goal.

 

But the end calls as in the beginning

In the very same silence, peace and dark

And the pilgrim will know

That it is the eternal which is calling

And that it is that calling which it must hark

Only if it remembers it from the womb

And the days throughout its human pilgrimage

That it did mark

The Truth and the Spirit in the Soul

2014.01.23.0700 ©

There is no such thing as silence; I know,

I have been listening for years:

The very process of searching for it

Becomes the noise the seeker hears.

 

There is no such thing as solitude;

No one and nothing is ever alone;

We are living in a world of continuing evolution

Creation in every corner, known and unknown.

 

There is no such thing as stillness or stability;

Except when one is considered full grown;

But that requires that one become too little spirit

And too much cold and written in stone.

 

There is no such thing as darkness;

Even Lucifer has seen the light;

But it is rather a blindness that comes around at times

To cause the mortal to find faith as his sight.

 

There is no such thing as profanity;

God looked at everything and saw that it was good;

Even the cross, the tree of seeming death and destruction,

The forces of evil, it overcame and withstood.

2014.01.14.0400 ©