Here Freedom lies

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I’d lost the people I loved. In the midst of the daily decisions and jaw-clenching nightly invocation, all the notable ones were scarce and silent. Anger, sadness, and pain rolled around my vital organs and stuttered my speech meditating on thoughts of misdeeds and words misspoken that persisted in my mind. Here lies life, the new day begets another. This solemn song is sung in chorus in palliative waiting rooms, tall stories forgotten and oft-loved ones replaced by diagnostic faces – with wry, stale smiles. A hand lies upon them, hemmed in front and behind, an eye for an ego, release in freedom lie.

Terra Firma

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Down well-trodden trail
a chasm opens beneath
gazing down dreamily
the worlds of ancients meet
look down at all the hours and days
the rhymes, signs and verses
words and tokens exchanged
between us
The earth envelopes it
cast down to what lies beneath
all those endless numbered days
those staunch and bending ways
Now only soft firm ground lies
sighs gingerly between my feet
abundance of life groans
all around me
but yet I am still and quiet
longing for tomorrow once more

Featured image: Twig Bench by Alexia Wedding on Pinterest

How long?

Posted on January 1, 2017 by aperture

All I long for is communitas
Missio Dei a valid task
How long, O Lord, can I sustain
agape?

‘Clock face made by convicts – hospital for the insane’ Willow Court New Norfolk, Tasmania.

Past-love archive

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“I have learned that if you must leave a place that you have lived in and loved and where all your yesteryears are buried deep, leave it any way except a slow way, leave it the fastest way you can. Never turn back and never believe that an hour you remember is a better hour because it is dead. Passed years seem safe ones, vanquished ones, while the future lives in a cloud, formidable from a distance.”
― Beryl Markham, West with the Night

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willow court insane asylum new norfolk, tasmania

“Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation.”
― Kahlil Gibran

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willow court gardens new norfolk, tasmania

“We’re going all the way ’til the wheels fall off and burn.”
― Bob Dylan

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antique cars willow court gardens new norfolk, tasmania

“You made me happy and you made me laugh, and if I could do it all over again, I would not hesitate. Look at our life, at the trips we took, the adventures we had. As your father used to say, we shared the longest ride together, this thing called life, and mine has been filled with joy because of you.”
― Nicholas Sparks, The Longest Ride

Shallow mirror

Posted on December 1, 2016 by aperture

Reflecting heaven’s light

captured by stillness in breath

obscuring the shallow beneath

stones settle buried at rest

reflecting

Restoration

Posted on September 25, 2016 by aperture

It’s the things that aren’t said that hurt the most.

I can hear the tower clock chime from my pillow

It is the only constant I hear.

But even this clock;

I envy the care and attention

it receives for its restoration.

I hope to have its constancy at heart.

Spiritus Sanctus:

‘O Holy Spirit, as the sun is full of light, the ocean full of water,

Heaven full of glory, so may my heart be full of thee.’

– The Valley of Vision

Heavenly bodies

Posted on August 19, 2016 by aperture

Vast and free twirling round

gazing down on a breadth of seas

For ancients’ sake boulders quake

and spread their plume and fume

in pillows of magnetic blue.

All this time we knew you

a firm sphere of life

revolution all around you

and yet it is not all

who tremble as you shake,

lie in your wake.

We’re one and all reliant on

the One source.

These heavenly bodies

are not far from it.

Constancy in our distance,

we stay our path, in safety.

No freedom flier

but remain, obey, rely.

One solstice past

orbits merged

an emergency flight path.

We cannot wish to undo

or change our place

for all order that surrounds

and lies floating in chaotic wait

will unleash their quiet laden weight.

Best to gaze on star’s light from afar.

Timbre of the Heart

Posted on April 26, 2016 by aperture

A rare bird indeed

we are exotic, an ancient lineage

migrated south.

We are two much, one to know another

protect, preserve our own our offspring,

territorial ties that wound

What we love, what is it?

The glorious plumage?

A splendour to behold

The sound of our call, cool, titillating talk?

are but echoes in the sky.

No, much more than that.

The most glorious sound to adore

is the heart beating in our chests

Listen, my friend, keenly –

look with those two deep oceans you keep.

See – every word, move, motion,

every flash in the eye, affection

reveals the timbre of the heart.

Buried treasure

Posted on April 17, 2016 by aperture

I stumbled across this buried treasure
Learned the secrets from a book
Extraordinary insight to the lowly and great
How others learned the secret, I do not know
Life must be lived in the will, not emotions
At birth the gift of freedom of will
The central citadel of man’s being
He stands knocking on the door of the human heart
But the latch of the door is on the inside
This is the entering-in