Light on the Page

The answer to a prayer is invisible. It occurs in unexpected ways. And yet you can feel its courage lifting in the heart, you can climb the way it opens up for you as you might climb a stair, and can stand in wonder before its perfect art. Is there anyone who hasn’t waited down below, before any courage was felt, before any stair appeared, and whose faith dwindled to a tiny spark? Then it seemed as if the world had nothing left to show, all lights were extinguished, and you were left alone with your thoughts in the dark.

Time and time again the thought arose that the world is old and has nothing in it that can lift me up. The hand I held out is empty and the cup I drank from is cold. Yet in that same hand, left limply folded, the prayer lies hidden, and there is hope in the half-forgotten cup. And something comes back from an old remembered land, from paradise, to lift me up.

As a drop of dew is all that’s left of night, what remains of me is distilled prayer. The sun then transforms the dew-drop into light. Paradise, which in its essence is still in me, fulfills me with its care. Only bones and hours continued of what I carried from the past. Yet something in me, even if I paid no heed to it consciously, must have stopped to pray along the way. Something that remembered what I myself had forgotten – an age of light, the paradise I had been part of long ago.

Stair

I’ve never seen the answer to a prayer,

but felt its courage lifting in my heart

and climbed its way as you would climb a stair

and stood in wonder at its perfect art.

I was the one who waited down below,

whose faith was narrowed to a tiny spark,

who felt the world had nothing more to show

than lights extinguished, thoughts left in the dark.

Paradise

Twenty times a day the thought arises,

the world is old and cannot lift me up,

ways have left me here with no surprises,

empty is my hand and cold the cup.

A prayer lies hidden in the folded hand,

a hope within the half-forgotten cup,

and something from an old, remembered land

comes back from paradise to lift me up.

Long-Gone

This drop of dew is all that’s left of night

and what remains of me is distilled prayer.

The sun transforms the dew-drop into light

and paradise fulfils me with its care.

I’ve carried what I can from the old day

and stopped where only bones and hours went on.

But something in me must have stopped to pray,

remembering an age of light long-gone.

Best wishes, today,

Landar

© landar 2010. All rights reserved.

There are births and there are births. The new self, the higher, deeper, other child within us, will emerge through time. We will be born again. What is less familiar in this idea is that we bear the inner being for each other, and carry it to term. The reborn man in me will reach his prime because you hold the knowledge of his worth within you, like a mother. And love comes down around us like a cloak, which drifts its silk across our folding arms. Under that cloak the new lives are formed which will bring heaven down to earth. Love’s exquisite touch and perfect charms ensure that this will happen.

The new-born baby is like a puzzle born in time. It’s as if the eternal has sold it to the earth so that it may bring back all the gold it’s able to find there. The gold of experience. Life is spent unearthing what selfhood can discover about its purpose, as if searching for its hidden rhyme. Gradually it becomes a story dipped in meaning, which can then be told. The deeper self, the inner being, is born again through grace. It is itself the rhyme and the answer to the riddle. In time it will redeem what was auctioned and spin the earth itself in gold, the truth to tell.

Charms

Each one of us is the child of time,

and we bear it to term for each other.

The reborn man in me will reach his prime,

your knowledge of his worth is the mother.

And love comes down around us like a cloak,

which drifts its silk across our folding arms.

While time gestates within us, new lives soak

in love’s exquisite touch and perfect charms.

Spin

The baby is a puzzle born in time

and sold by the eternal for earth’s gold.

A life is spent unearthing selfhood’s rhyme,

a story dipped in meaning and then told.

The deeper self is born again through grace,

and is the answered riddle, rhyming well.

In time he will redeem the auctioned place,

and spin the earth in gold, the truth to tell.

Best wishes, today,

Landar

© landar 2010. All rights reserved.

How everything changes! I waited for darkness and it became light, the bell at the end of day chimed instead at dawn, and where I sat softly stitching the shroud, the body itself has gone. Those stiches are thoughts, but the body is real. It had no place to go, or so I believed. The imagination is deep, much wider than thought can encompass. The body has gone into its great width, and angels circle my thoughts with song. There is something that Heaven can cross with a leap!

The world is as wide as a song, round-rimmed like one eternal breath. What seemed so strong before, dead as the sinking moon, has risen like the sun from its tomb. I’d like to walk with you around that rim, where the angels sing. Look, then, where the deep imagination springs, and you’ll see that the angels singing are just you and I.

Throng

And so the dark I wait for’s turned to light,

the bell at the end of day chimes at dawn,

and all that has been won by my own fight

is to peel aside the shroud’s soft-stitched lawn.

The body inside has gone to the deep,

where angels circle my thoughts with their song,

and all that Heaven can cross with a leap

resounds in their ringingly tuneful throng.

You and I

At once the world is as wide as a song,

or held as one eternal round-rimmed breath,

and what before had seemed to me so strong

has risen like the sun from its tomb of death.

Will you take with me this walk by the world’s round spring,

listen in your heart to the words the angels sing?

And if you’ll look more closely with your deep mind’s eye,

you’ll see the angels singing are just you and I.

Best wishes, today,

Landar

© landar 2010. All rights reserved.