Light on the Page

THE THREAD OF GOLD

To open your heart to what death contains can be less frightening than the waiting grave signifies. Death is a companion. Should I hold onto each living breath as if it’s the only thing God gave me? Or shall I take the steps down to the dark and loosen there the line of golden thread, which I have as my most sacred possession? My hands are not the only ones to need that thread. The sight of it can be a consolation to others who have gone before.

Or I may go down to what waits for me below and find an ocean. Is this ocean broader and deeper than my own soul, or is it the same water? And will its currents not travel over me as much as I sail over them? The slip of gold in my heart is my hope and safety. What is vast and eternal in the sea is the same as what is in me. It will rage in darkness against the quay unless I have sight of it now, from the start.

The thread of gold which runs through Light on the Page can also work its way down into the hidden realm. The slip which is the starting point is also here.

Consolation

If my companion then is dusky death,

and down below me lies the waiting grave,

shall I encounter every living breath

as if it were the only thing God gave?

Or shall I take the steps down to the dark,

and loosen there a line of golden thread,

so when the empty cavern seems most stark

there’s still some consolation for the dead.

Quay

Or if an ocean waits for me below,

as broad and silent as my soul can be,

I’ll navigate it, sailing with the flow,

just as its currents will travel over me.

But if no slip of light is in my heart,

I’ll have no comfort out upon the sea,

and what is vast, eternal from the start,

will rage in darkness up against the quay.

Best wishes, today,

Landar

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