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blogging101, Creative Writing, Journaling, Plato's Groove, Poetry, Reblogged, Reflections, Writing 101
Sometimes we have to wait a while for the words to spill from Plato’s heart. Work has a way of robbing us of his company. But when his heart can no longer contain them, they pour forth as magic…
* * * * *
September 23rd
The light is changing
The earth has tilted and cracked the veil once more
Eternity’s magic rushes in as the Mundane surrenders It’s hold
Spilling into and over from that Place where things are as they Ought to be
That place of consummation, the exquisite
Where hunger is satiated and longing finds rest
The light shimmers and sparkles and shines
Dancing off multicolored hues, moved about by the cooling breezes
Shades of green, yellows, reds, and brown
Are alive in the new light
My Soul is quickened
Sweet with a sadness who’s ache stirs a longing now frantic for life
Distractions vanish the fog lifts, clarity calls, nudges, and beckons me
Awake from the dreary dream and its shadowy forms
Smothered Soul surges from the depths desperate to break the surface
Filling the void, the vacuum, with substance
Past and future’s illusions fall away, Now is all
Eternity’s rapture rushes through spirit and flesh
Conquest complete, I am captured and held in the sway of my Beloved
Ego broken, Self surrendered to that which is Real and beyond the senses
Passion rises, staking an unequivocal claim to what is mine by birth
Yes, Yes, Yes, I am, It is, We are joined in the Creator’s dance and feel it’s power
Moved, broken, and remade in the image of what Ought to be but is now not, Yet
Joy and Sorrow live together there in that place between the Now and that which is coming
But that is living. Being alive brings pain and pleasure sometimes at once
Holding them in tension is living and is the power of creation
First the sun, now the bright light muted in the cool quiet rain
Tender gentle drops fall and break on me
I hear them fall, kissing the leaves on their way
Communion with Her, the rest, the easy conversation heals and renews hope
The changing light transforms the sky’s tears into jewels to adorn my skin
My heart breaks with joy to know the living of it
I see, I feel, I breathe in the magic of what has always been hidden within view
And am grateful for the times when my slumbering soul blinks awake
My Soul’s secret and silent hallelujah erupts and thunders It’s release
I rise on the currents of spirit and flesh knowing the God of life
Then collapse, spent, humbled, sweetness feeds my spirit, gratefulness Her response
Even now Eternity recedes, flowing back into the depths, leaving me uncovered, unfinished
Longing’s lure and it’s exquisite ache points the way
Both sunshine and rain will fall
Bitter and sweet will fill the cup.
Don’t avoid one for the other.
Be nourished by both.
Rapture requires grief to balance what is not yet with how it Ought to be.
This is true living
For, “There are cracks in everything, and that’s how the light gets in.”
Thank you Mr. Cohen
(reprinted with Plato’s permission…)
calensariel
My heart is in between the sentences of this poem. Were I to lay it bear it would say:
Sweet with a sadness who’s ache stirs a longing now frantic for life /
Smothered Soul surges from the depths desperate to break the surface /
Moved, broken, and remade in the image of what Ought to be but is now not, Yet /
Joy and Sorrow live together there in that place between the Now and that which is coming /
But that is living. Being alive brings pain and pleasure sometimes at once /
Holding them in tension is living and is the power of creation /
Even now Eternity recedes, flowing back into the depths, leaving me uncovered, unfinished /
Don’t avoid one for the other. /
Be nourished by both. /
Rapture requires grief to balance what is not yet with how it Ought to be. /
This is true living /
For, “There are cracks in everything, and that’s how the light gets in.”/
That poem within a poem breaks my heart. But the words you use to surround it makes it at least bearable to my soul. I am usually happiest of all in autumn. But not this year. My heart is having trouble staying nested in your cocoon of hopeful words. I love this…
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platosgroove
Bearing it without fear sugar is the trick I guess. There is beauty in the grief as well as the rapture. Guess I’m feeling all sappy again. 🙂
_______________
calensariel
No sweetie, not sappy. You just have a way of cutting through to the truth with a feather- soft knife. Like the slap that doesn’t really hurt because you forgive the person immediately… I think this is one of your most beautiful poems. ❤
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