THE CHORUS OF REBIRTH

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.