Light on the Page

“Do I rise or am I lifted?” is the question the plant must ask eternally of the sun. In reply the sun just shines. And the plant goes on, “If I put my roots down further, will I ever learn how to fly or set my leaves free?”

The light that shines within me poses a question:   “Why do you try to hold to the earth when you were given wings with which to rise up?” And where the plant receives its reply in the sun’s shining, I know I can give my answer by using what I have been given to return to the kingdom which really gave me my birth.

And again, the very grass I walk on cries out for the light of the sun and fills the air with its seed. It will not say, “I might”, but every part of its being declares, “I need”. And something gives voice in my blood saying that I must yield to air and air to me. My wings will beat against the world’s flood. And I myself will raise my needs to what I know I have to be.

Birth

Do I rise or am I lifted? the plant

asks of the sun, but the sun only shines.

If I put my roots down further, I can’t

learn how to fly or free my topmost vines.

The light that shines within me asks me why

I try to hold forever to the earth,

when I was given wings with which to fly

and come back to the kingdom of my birth?

Needs

The grass itself I walk on cries for light

and fills the air with all its living seed.

You never hear its voice declare, ‘I might’,

but root and stem and leaf speak out, ‘I need’.

Yet something in me voices in my blood

that I must yield to air, and air to me.

As wings will beat against the world’s flood,

I’ll raise my needs to what I have to be.

Best wishes, today,

Landar

© landar 2010. All rights reserved.

The oldest part of us is the physical. It was the first to be made and has waited longest for rebirth. The soul is younger. No one would claim it has the perfection of the physical. We have such a long way to go! And when the physical is reborn – right down to the finest molecular structure – it will sing its name again where angel voices ring! I can see us walking, in the first light of morning. I can see the wavering gloom, where night gives way to daylight. And I can see our faces in that early light. First yours and then mine, lit up by the word that’s carried on the dawn, that the one who’s lain longest, the physical part of us, is the first to be heard in the chorus of rebirth.

The first glass of life is still pure. It tastes sweet, it has everything we need in it. It holds the flavour of paradise. But with age comes knowledge, and the second glass seems different, mixed with fruits of decay. Then the force of love in us must turn to its partner and search in her face for the brightness that life once held. Indeed, there are lines and caverns etched in the land. We can walk there again in the early morning, walk there without fail. One hand is warm, the hand which holds its partner’s. The other is cold. Then it will happen that the higher love, which spelt out its name in the night, will share with us, quite without hands, life’s golden flame.

You have to release your life to the spiritual again, to turn the horse free from the stable. It has to feed on the open prairie, to feel the sun on its body, the wind in its mane. Only then can you catch up with the power of time, and know how to be. And again, you and I, we can walk at daybreak and taste the first light. We can see how the shadows and moon-lines take flight. There is a power that gives back to us the choice of day. The power of love, which goes among us. Life then has its freedom – to gallop or to stay.

Heard

But the oldest life was first to the door –

a million years in the shaping, it sprang

like a new song to ancient lips once more

and hymned its name where angel voices rang.

And the light of the morning was as blue as the tomb

when our souls went out walking in wavering gloom,

and your face, first, then mine, was lit by the word

that the one who’d lain longest was first to be heard.

Flame

And when you have downed the first glass of life,

the second seems mixed with fruits of decay.

Then love in love’s name will turn to his wife

to search for the brightness that started the day.

Where the lines and caverns are etched in the land,

we will walk without fail, with one warm, one cold hand,

and the love which in night had last spelt out its name

will then share with us, handlessly, life’s golden flame.

Gallop or Stay

I turned the horse from his stable again

to feed on the prairie, open and free.

The sun flanked his body, the wind his mane,

he caught up with time, and knew how to be.

You and I at the daybreak have tasted the light,

we have seen how the shadows and moon-lines take flight.

And now love is among us and gives us the day,

so that life in its freedom can gallop or stay.

Best wishes, today,

Landar

© landar 2010. All rights reserved.