I pledged myself to Green, which is the source of all things. Within its many layers there is a beating heart which I hope to find. It may be only at the end of life. It might be a simple fire in the forest, a lamp hanging on a long branch, but I will arrive there. In the meantime Green must do its work, of growing, changing, extending. I’m grateful to Green and sorry for wanting to peer through its foliage. Perhaps I am myself the heart, the fire, the lamp I seek to find.
Yet the source of all things is also Green -
a consciousness in love with sleep’s folklore,
a proud snake winding around wakefulness.
The gift of knowledge is verdant as leaves,
but copious imagination’s growth
is fonder of the forest floor, and deep.
The secret is: devolve all power to life,
be pleased with contradictions, love each choice,
and welcome in the thoughts which angels bring.
Yes, the source of all things is also Green -
ungovernable still but truly wise;
your beating heart appears within its boughs.
—There might be a simple fire where the green day ends,
there might be a waiting lamp where the long branch bends;
you have searched through times untold for the peace night brings,
you have heard its secret sounds when the twilight sings.
Green the wood and gold the hearing,
life is long but night is kind;
you will find the lonely clearing,
where the tangled paths unwind.
Best wishes, today,
©Jay Landar 2013. All rights reserved
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