Saturday, December 14, 2013

Lost youth - art of life

In dribbled tease serenity does gather in my mouth,
wanting only to digest what time consumes in trust,
as morsels made in moments mad and meddled,
where reason does lie chewed; no more than crust.

Like remnants of a meal from mind befuddled,
the dregs and dross of drowning hopes of youth,
when teeth do rot and crumble into shapes supine,
then so do all those futures, possible or not.

Wherein the dreams of Self are mortared into shape,
discard themselves like shards of mirror dropped,
as that which Soul has lost; forgotten as it gropes;
on paths which trace the patterns writ sublime.

Then so is hope in silent choke so steadily revealed,
as vapour from the jasmine which will rise,
no matter night or day, or heat or steady cold, immersed,
for purpose has its power and strength besides.

The signature of being, unique and ever brought to birth,
and there, in pure creation, does peace, eternal breathe,
that time will bring acceptance and a knowledge born;
the truth of all the ages; art of life will then be seen.

In letting go of ego and demands which have no place,
so do we find  there is no more than now and here,
releasing those desires, demands and needs which hold;
surrendering to the moment, discarding all our fear.

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