Light on the Page

It’s the power of the deepest being within you to walk right through to the truth. For me the world of snow and ice is the pure realm we all come from. In reality, it fills up our tracks with new flakes as we go, it paves our walkways, without our knowing it. But snow must thaw and most likely will give way to fog. This fog remains as the condition of much of our lives. The deeper being within you is like the child. Notwithstanding that the snow has gone, this part of yourself is still able to part the veils of everything that remains hidden – and to walk right through. It’s a task of transformation. lightonthepage would like to help with that task.

Veils

So winter’s vastness dwindles to a fog;

children part its thoughts like veils, forgetting

how their tracks filled up with snow, how the ice

paved their world before they woke, how nothing

could ever be the same again, but white.

That winter, whose dominion is the truth,

the children part its veils and walk right through.

Best wishes, today,

Landar

© landar 2010

The moral right of the author has been asserted. All rights reserved. No part of this website may be reproduced without the prior permission of the author.

Well, the snowman has been up and about and walking. He’s very central to my theme in lightonthepage. After all who makes who in this world? I’m finding it hard to say, without his help, how that pure being, living as the deepest spiritual self, wants to know himself, to glide across the world in my footsteps. Therefore his footprints are there in the snow, although you might miss his elusive presence unless you rise very, very early.

The snowman has to reckon with the thaw as well. I love him also for his greying, leftover mound when the rain has come, for the way his thoughts flow into the earth.

lightonthepage is about those thoughts and more, much much more. You might say it’s a spiritual blog, a poetical or literary one. The main thing is that the words come from that pure inner light – and that the footsteps of the early-rising man of snow are not too far away.

Can I wake and walk with him, that snowman,

melting as he his? Must I dissolve my dreams,

let all my thoughts like water flow away?

Give up my well-pressed words and let him speak

for me, from the depths of wild, snow-filled heaven?

And so, if we have walked beside the snow’s first life,

how long before our footprints lead us round again,

as friends, to where he first shaped me, and I,

with coal-bright eyes, gazed into the world anew?

Then what will be my mind except the snow,

melting and pouring into distant heartlands

where I long to be, to walk with you and feel

how everything I love is spread around me

in glistening streams and silvery-minded paths?

And he is there, the man of snow, washed free

of my creating, burning his hands in a world

where snow had never fallen or thought to fall.

Best wishes, today,

Landar

© landar 2010

The moral right of the author has been asserted. All rights reserved. No part of this page may be reproduced without the prior permission of the author.

What else can I say? This is Landar in the coldest winter for 30 years. You’re reading lightonthepage. Where else to start except with the following:

The snowman rises as he always will

before dawn and stares at his maker

at the moment of waking. But so pure is he

the maker becomes the made and tries so hard

to remember where he left the melting image

which is always the shaper of his being.

Best wishes, today,

Landar

© landar 2010

The moral right of the author has been asserted. All rights reserved. No part of this website may be reproduced without the prior permission of the author.