The pink clouds

Pink clouds stretch
across grey sky,
to herald
sunshine's way,
and whisper words
of warmth
and light,
to mark
the end of rain

The distant day

I saw the distant day writ large,
when life would show itself,
and write upon the page of earth
the truth of who I was.
It was a story told before
I came into this world,
and one which would endure
beyond, the Self material.
These tales are brought to birth
in worlds, before and after now,
when truth eternal writes itself,
onto the cosmic page.
And in the doing fleshes out,
creation's fertile mind,
as you and me and all that is;
as God revealed in time.

The child

Life carries forth the newborn child
and offers one more soul,
to breathe and be within this world,
to find their way back home.
It is a journey from the womb,
through days and years and time,
to birth the Self material,
in ways which make us wise.

Love is the language of connectedness

Love is
the language
of connectedness,
the words
of which
reach out,
to touch
and draw
the other in;
to speak
of all
we share.

We think we are so clever

We think we are so clever,
when we do clever things,
but genius comes through us,
not from, as we believe.

The owl

In blink of owl and eye he sits,
observing as I work,
through ordered hang of clothes
on line, through day
and into night.
In sombre mood he modulates,
the moments as they pass,
and then cries low and sonorous,
time's open door to mark.

If only

Photo: Sunset at the farm - April 2012


If only we could track the path
which leads us on from now,
in order to protect ourselves
from what we do not know.
And yet in this becoming,
through dark emerging dawn,
we find the shape of who we are,
the truth of Self and Soul.

Without the touch

Oil on Canvas - Ocean - Roslyn Ross - 2009

Without the touch
and smell of flesh,
the senses finely tuned,
I only have the dream
of you; the image
lightly formed.

I watched the thoughts

Oil on Canvas - Walk on the Sand - Roslyn Ross - 2010

 I watched
the thoughts
within my mind,
to see where
they  would lead,
and realised
it was myself
which  gave
them destiny.

Watching my love

Oil on Canvas - Rocks and Sea - Roslyn Ross 2009

Your eyelash settled on dusted cheek and rose and fell in silent sigh, as breath and beat held sleeping court and skin surrendered to the sheets, with whispered tones of almond and honey.

 I watched, held court, with time's assent, that rise and fall of chest and belly, in wonder at the touch and feel, of love made manifest in life.

 You slept, not seeing what I saw, nor hearing gentled tones of sound, which sleep allowed escape and cause; reminded me of what I had.  The dawn had given form to shape, had filled the vision lastly felt, and drawn my eyes to deeper truths, which lay in languorous, light salute.

 And in that moment, you were mine, in all that life could offer up; a holding fast to absolutes – illusion smiled at both of us.

Upon the cross of conscience

 Oil on Canvas - cross of conscience - Roslyn Ross 2010

Upon the cross of conscience,
we hang between the worlds,
of death and resurrection;
twixt ego and our Soul.

The trail of time

The trail of time
was lingering,
beside the edge
of life,
and watched me
smiling thoughtfully,
as I became
myself.