Ocean
Your heart is an ocean pulled true by the moon, that cannot retreat till its telling is done. I have a mission as a writer and poet to speak the truth that’s in me till ‘the telling is done’. I believe that each person has a deep tone or note in them which is the core of their being. I listen for this tone when I try to understand others. The whole of life is an attempt to make your experience chime in unison with the inner sound. And when it’s achieved there is a wonderful harmony with other people. This still lies ahead for the world. It seems to me there is a point in the darkest hour of the night when you hear that sound again – or, visually, when you see its true light. Thus waking can feel like a disillusion, a falling away from your true being. But in the course of the day the tone – your heart – is like an ocean, pulled by the moon, which has to break on the shore of the world.
As sleep is ‘the little brother of death’ it follows that in the life after death there is a deepest hour when you become that true tone again and ‘bathe’ in its restoring powers. And from there where else is there to go but back to the world again to continue the mission ’till the telling is done’? However, harmony in life on earth would not be possible unless you had experienced its archetype in a pre-earthly existence. Therefore it stands to reason that we experience that deepest hour after death together.
For me it becomes necessary to believe this simply because of the pull of the tide I feel so strongly in me. I couldn’t believe otherwise. I’ve drawn an analogy between sleep and death here. The moon represents the force hidden in the darkness which pulls you towards day/life again. But what of the sun? The sun is the power which draws all life towards it and without which there would be no life. Really it is the counterforce to the earth. I can think of no greater symbol and would not like to explain it here.
Wave
I break like a wave on a grassy shore
with golden oak leaves carried on my crest;
a tide in my heart and an urge to restore
the conscience of life in the world’s breast.
Not one thing alone but a flotsam of light,
in pools and reflections the length of the coast;
nothing will change me, no storm has the right
to blacken the holiest thoughts that I host.
Moon
To day I fall from sleep’s unearthly sound
and my dreams drift like featherdown away;
my mind is a mountain, my thoughts still resound
with thunderous tones and their deep roundelay.
Bring vision to morning and speech to high noon,
unveil the rewards of the night for the sun;
your heart is an ocean pulled true by the moon,
that cannot retreat till its telling is done.
Best wishes, today,
Landar
©landar 2011. All rights reserved
