Oct 082016
 

gibranIt is when your spirit goes wandering upon the wind,
That you, alone and unguarded, commit a wrong unto others and therefore unto yourself.
And for that wrong committed must you knock and wait a while unheeded at the gate of the blessed.

Like the ocean is your god-self;
It remains for ever undefiled.
And like the ether it lifts but the winged. Even like the sun is your god-self;
It knows not the ways of the mole nor seeks it the holes of the serpent.
But your god-self dwells not alone in your being.
Much in you is still man, and much in you is not yet man,
But a shapeless pigmy that walks asleep in the mist searching for its own awakening.
And of the man in you would I now speak.
For it is he and not your god-self nor the pigmy in the mist, that knows crime and the punishment of crime.

Oftentimes have I heard you speak of one who commits a wrong as though he were not one of you, but a stranger unto you and an intruder upon your world.
But I say that even as the holy and the righteous cannot rise beyond the highest which is in each one of you,
So the wicked and the weak cannot fall lower than the lowest which is in you also.
And as a single leaf turns not yellow but with the silent knowledge of the whole tree,
So the wrong-doer cannot do wrong without the hidden will of you all.
Like a procession you walk together towards your god-self.
You are the way and the wayfarers.
And when one of you falls down he falls for those behind him, a caution against the stumbling stone.
Ay, and he falls for those ahead of him, who though faster and surer of foot, yet removed not the stumbling stone.

*

1950-8-4_gibranAnd if any of you would punish in the name of righteousness and lay the ax unto the evil tree, let him see to its roots;
And verily he will find the roots of the good and the bad, the fruitful and the fruitless, all entwined together in the silent heart of the earth.
And you judges who would be just,
What judgment pronounce you upon him who though honest in the flesh yet is a thief in spirit?
What penalty lay you upon him who slays in the flesh yet is himself slain in the spirit?
And how prosecute you him who in action is a deceiver and an oppressor,
Yet who also is aggrieved and outraged?

twenty-drawings-by-kahlil-gibran-en-ingles-18969-mla20163691892_092014-fAnd how shall you punish those whose remorse is already greater than their misdeeds?
Is not remorse the justice which is administered by that very law which you would fain serve?
Yet you cannot lay remorse upon the innocent nor lift it from the heart of the guilty.
Unbidden shall it call in the night, that men may wake and gaze upon themselves.
And you who would understand justice, how shall you unless you look upon all deeds in the fullness of light?
Only then shall you know that the erect and the fallen are but one man standing in twilight between the night of his pigmy-self and the day of his god-self,
And that the corner-stone of the temple is not higher than the lowest stone in its foundation.

Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet

Mar 262015
 

b_w_pencil_drawing_original_art_sailboat_on_calm_sea_12_x_16_7115d3fdSunset and evening star,
And one clear call for me!
And may there be no moaning at the bar,
When I put out to sea,
But such a tide as moving seem asleep,
Too full for sound and foam,
When that which draws from out the boundless deep
Turns again home.
Twilight and evening bell,
And after that the dark!
And may there be no sadness of farewell.
When I embark;
For tho’ from our bourne of Time and Place
The flood may bear me far,
I hope to see my Pilot face to face
When I have crossed the bar.

A. L Tennyson, Crossing the Bar

Dec 082012
 

 Face to face and silver silence

Fills the spaces left between us.

In the mind our eyes will wander,

See therein love’s sweetest pleasure.

 

Nerves are bad – my tongue is frozen –

Still my heart is speaking volumes.

In our veins the blood grows warmer;

By degrees the sun gets nearer.

 

How can I make real what’s happened

There between us, in the dream world;

Lest we find a hidden moment

Just to slip within the ocean?

 

So, the truth– there’s no denying –

When I’m with you all is fading

To a pale, unfocused shadow,

Of itself, while you are shining

Like a star.

 

But I must hide this

thrill I feel

when you’re beside me.

 

When we meet I’ll give you kisses,

Brush each cheek in swift succession.

As my scent becomes your aura,

Both your arms could pull me closer.

 

Charismatic Rays just blind me,

Touch upon my racing heartbeat.

Hold me tight – I’ll melt in stages –

Sink into the sea of changes.

 

Now you know the slightest trigger

Might unleash a storm within me,

Bring us into new dimensions.

When we kissed I learned you simply

Make me whole.

Now I must wonder,

How can this be put asunder?

 

Maybe when the days have lengthened,

Reached a point – mid-summer’s evening –

We shall find ourselves reflected,

There – upon the bridge of twilight –

In the waters deep and tranquil,

Streams that mingle, once divided.

 

While I watch you speak my eyes fall

Down onto your mouth, as always;

Search your face and try to listen,

Try to stop myself from losing

All control.

I long to kiss you.

 

Both my lips are wet from wanting

You.

You feel the nervous tension

And it makes you want to draw me

Near –

Upon your knee, quite slowly,

Smile and laugh to soothe the tempest.

 

Throw your arm around my centre,

Cast a whisper in my shell-like

Ear,

And see the stars in my eyes;

See the way you rock me, world-wise.

 

Feel the way my thighs, relaxing,

Curve around your hips like liquid.

Then my arms uncoil, like vine leaves

Wind across your chest and shoulders.

 

As I breathe you feel me quiver –

Shake inside and out, get shivers –

Hairs on end are poised for action,

Secrets of this wild attraction

Are revealed.

At last you see me.

Now you know the love flies freely.

 

No more ghosts -our worlds, dissembled –

Merge as one while we just tremble.

 

 

Nov 172011
 

Ten minutes later the Master re-emerged, devoid of magazine and whiskey glass but clutching to heart an exceedingly large, old and important-looking volume.

The much-lamented loss of Pros Theon had abruptly ended a few short minutes after its owner entered the bathroom, where it was discovered at the bottom of a towering stack of bathroom-reading material and joyfully rescued by its ecstatic owner.

Tremendously relieved, twelve years of life added back on, the Master placed Pros Theon  on the desk in the study with a great sense of ceremony, lit an ancient lamp and turned to the penultimate section:

Transformatio Dies (The Days of Transformation)

Translating and interpreting the elaborate text was a mission that took every effort of will and imagination; the fruits of this fabled tome being rare and exotic indeed.

After 23 meticulously strung-together minutes, the Master – who had a surprisingly short attention span for one inclined to meditation – looked up from the text and out of the window for inspiration, directly onto the swaying treetops. Perchance, there was sitting a bird of extraordinary magnitude and power and in that same instant a piercing set of eyes imparted the truth – a reminder – with almost unfathomable simplicity:

‘Forwards backwards; time is taking
Certain steps through every section.
Herein find the secret waiting:
Future from the past; reflection.

Soaring Eagle spread his massive wings and flew towards the window, sight locked like magnetic iron onto the fixated Master, who felt a heavenly upsurge of pure, unadulterated joy and ran in the eagle’s direction, having reverted back to childhood in a twinkling of the eye.  In complete innocence the Master was able to grasp one of the bird’s great tail feathers and later attach it to the sun-tinted dream catcher. More memories of Halcyon Days would be captured by this than by all of the other feathers combined.

Twilight fell like whispers of an echo bade by Eros. Venus – like the bloom –transpired, with stars like smelted teardrops.

Jan 032011
 

It is recorded that, at the hour of his death, “the veil of the temple was rent in twain” (Mark 15.38); this indicated that a new karmic balance had been established between good and evil when the curtain was lifted from Hell. Then, too, the curtain (or “veil”) was lifted from the “Holy of Holies”.

Now, however, the consequence of this new karmic relationship is this: when the mystery of good and the secret of evil have both become available to human experiential knowledge, goodness gains by being known, while evil loses by being recognised as such. This is the essential difference between good and evil: good gains by being recognised; evil loses when it is recognised.

The most sublime act of cognitive courage occurred when Jesus Christ renounced the “veil of Hell” and (instead of witnessing the life tableau) descended with his whole being into the darkness of the subterranean spheres. That “descent into Hell” was an event that no human speech can describe. There is nothing more unsettling than the disappearance of Jesus Christ into the darkness of the lower spheres, out of sight of he beings watching from the spiritual world.

A breathless expectation was maintained in expectation of either the most triumphant victory or the most disastrous catastrophe. During those days, only one thought and one question filled the whole world of the hierarchies: Will he return? Will he emerge from the abyss? Again, all human speech is powerless to give even the faintest reflection of the cosmic exultation that ensued when the risen Christ reappeared from the darkness of that abyss in the realm of twilight. Cosmic Easter was celebrated in the realms of heaven, a cosmic festival that continues for all time as the archetype of all human festivals on Earth.

Valentin Tomberg, Christ and Sophia (The Mystery of Golgotha)

Jul 232010
 

Adam then breathed in the essence of life,
Born with the earth of his Lord the Creator.
There in his eye was a land in the sun light,
Man was resolved by the rhythm of nature.

Genesis named and inspired the new creatures;
Two at a time did the first stand in line,
Once recognized by the style of their features.
All were made equal for each was divine.

Butterflies formed and then found in the meadow,
Adam in person, the dawning of history.
Then with their wings did the doves of his heir,
Crown him in silence with leaves from a prayer.

In twilight he saw the first stars as he prayed,
Kneeling as one who was yearning for symmetry.
Angels came down to take plots from his dreams:
Beauty and truth inside out; drawn was Eve.