There is a now

There is a now,
there is a then,
there is a will be
too, and yet
there is no truth
in this - for time
does not exist.
Within the acorn
of our Soul,
they all do live
as one, and circle
in eternal turn,
as present, future
past.

They say we are not separated

They say we are not separated,
in any true, real sense,
and yet when you are far away,
there feels no sure connect.
Perhaps in dreams we are as one,
united in that world,
where time and distance disappear,
and we unite again.

Autumn Days

 

The days draw darkly,

coolly through,

the lingered sunlight hours,

to speak of winter's presence,

to honour summer's dreams.

The words were waiting

The words were waiting

The words were waiting, hovering
below the skirts of mind,
as conscience gathered them in hand,
to step into the fray.
They lingered by the hem of thought,
slow drifted through my lips,
until I saw they'd sallied forth,
to say what should be said.
And in release they held their ground,
full shadowed by my doubt,
as born of dark necessity they
formed in armoured ranks.
Fears and hopes had marshalled them,
without my knowing how,
they would perform upon the field;
if victory would come.
The words were waiting, hovering
below the skirts of mind,
as conscience gathered them in hand,
to step into the fray.

Within myself

Distant Seas, Oil on Canvas, 2010, Roslyn Ross.


Within myself the gathering
is always to be  seen,
of who I am and who you know,
and who I want to be.
And then there is the mother,
the wife and daughter too,
the sister and the lover,
the writer and the friend.
And yet within the crowding,
there is eternal I,
who gathers me unto itself;
creates eternal Soul.

I looked upon your face

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

 I looked upon your face and saw,
myself reflected there,
as memory and image,
as two, now one, all shared.
The joining of two souls,
had made relationship,
the heiros gamos brought to birth,
in deep, eternal gift.

Dark Days

Dark Days, Oil on Canvas, 2011, Roslyn Ross.

The day dawned clouded,

petrified; a darkened

stone of strife, just thrown

upon the pebbled lap

of what I called my life.