THE DWELLING OF THE ETERNAL

How little room for the eternal there is in the world! Isn’t this a strange thing, that what is biggest of all should be squeezed out by time and its expediencies? But it’s not strange – we have to pull our socks on in the morning and do a million other things before the moon sets. It’s a product of birth. But what about rebirth – the dwelling of the eternal? There comes a time when the balance has to tip in its favour. Or to put it in another way, I myself have to be the fulcrum of the scales or the narrow neck of the hourglass. Eternity – truth if you like – is no more than a drop of gold transmuting lives into a life unseen and lifting the world from its tumult. It comes about through me and through you and through what passes between us.

 

Everything under the sun, everything within time, is a symbol of the land which came before it, which was alone and in itself complete. And in my own mind there is still a place intact, which remains as it was before my birth, until I too came to earth as a symbol of self.

 

I have to find it again, but not just in the vastness of the skies or in the dusty stars which seem to have been there for an eternity. Still less is it present in the dungeons life makes for us through the misfortunes of birth or blood. But I will find it in the globe of your eyes, in the gravity of love pulling our hearts together. There I will find the birth of new lives out of skies retold.

 

Tumult

I’ve searched for truth under mountain and stream,

in the flash of far lightning and the march

of mile-consuming thunder, in the mouth

of forgotten gods in their fastnesses.

And now in the sound of the streaming rain

I know the truth to be a drop of gold

transmuting lives into a life unseen

and lifting the world from its tumult.

 

Symbol

And the world with all its wildernesses,

its silvery deserts and silent plains,

is symbol of the land that came before,

which was all and alone itself complete.

And in my own mind is a place intact

which remains as it was before my birth

where I roamed as a thought uninvented,

till I came as symbol of self to earth.

 

Skies  (for H)

Among the dusty stars will I find it,

in the trail of worlds lacing the sky?

Will I behold it in life’s own dungeons,

where the betrayals of blood chain us down?

No – I’ll see it in the globe of your eyes,

I’ll feel it in the gravity of love,

pulling our revolving hearts together:

the birth of new lives out of skies retold.

 

Best wishes, today,

Landar

 

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