She is untamed chaos Fierce in her protective gaze. An enigma, A paradox, A joyful mystic, A volatile conductress. Surrender to the wild Goose Melt into her terrible embrace. She beckons you to cast off from the shore. Your feeble tin boat bobbing in the wind, the humming splash of water it's keeper. Let it float untethered. Let it drift and wobble. Toss aside your anchor; Abandon it, discard it, into the waiting sea. Surrender to the Wild Goose. 'Till the land becomes a distant haze; And you are given over to the spiralling adventure, the swooping whirlwind Under her Great Wings.
Deep in the forest amongst leaf, wood and shrub,
There is a place where the light plays tricks.
As if it were a small child finding joy
in hiding things
And creating puppet-shows
in the shadowy patterns of the trees.
So a story unfolds,
where heroes and heroines spring from the most unlikely places.
Like the reassuring orb of the moon
Like the movement of a grey cloud
Like the distant chatter of a bird.
And then, in the space between moments,
you glimpse something in the corner of your eye
Tree spirits, angels, faeries
(It’s only a glimpse).
And a story unfolds still
Because, even amidst the infinite possibilities
of the tale;
There is a presence in the silence.
Enchanted light and stillness,
Weave it’s transformation, til
It is no longer a secret place, but rather a place of communion.
Even so, a Soul can be unaware of the Silent Witness.
Mistaking the loud stillness of the forest, for solitude.
A lonely journey,
A palpable aloneness,
A hopeless isolation.
But it was just an illusion.
The shadows were playing tricks.
If you listen, the air has this sort of hush you can feel
because it is damp with water droplets (and you are thirsty).
And the scent of the earth are a jumble of woody spices,
and leafy aromas,
which join hands with you
In solidarity for each and every breath.
And not a single leaf falls unknown.
And in every shadow there is a song.
And the Child laughs with joy.
In the room of my soul, there are arched windows.
Made of stone, they crumble a bit.
But the windows frame the ever changing landscape.
I keep an eye on the important details.
As the shadows shift
Summer and Winter
Are gloriously displayed in their whirling dance.
I can see the broody sky,
and the sweeping hills below.
My Guardian angel like the breeze
hovers over my life.
Ready at my aid, eager to help.
But for now, just sending blessings on my head saying,
“Rest,rest,rest and be still now”.
Could I be this cherished, precious, valuable?
Though it seems I am only a butterfly with tattered wings.
I find in my doorway a tentative harmony,
A soulful dialogue, a childlike prayer.
Full of hope
Like those Monarch Butterflies
weaving patterns in the air.
Robust little messengers.
The room of my soul,
contains all of the little details of my time here
Woven together, hammered together
Painted and furnished by me
Yet held with miraculous hands.