Occasionally
A phrase holds on
It rises and rides through the seasons
Filed away, it fills, instills, chills, simmers
Echoes of a slight suggestion
Build in the background of a quiet mind
Until the chaos writhes
And breaks through the winsome din
It was but one simple phrase
Several years left behind
A lone sliver of paper
The words still on my mind
There was the slightest sliver of moon that morning as I woke. Not far above the horizon. It seemed I could almost reach up and touch it. The silhouettes of the nearby trees loomed dark on the pre-dawn blue sky. The ground was wet from the slight rains that had visited last night.
As the skies brightened, and the moon faded, I saw the tiny tracks around my small campsite. I sensed that I was being watched by many small eyes. They seemed to appear in the time it took for me to blink. Perhaps it was just my nagging and lagging state of sleepiness. I shook myself awake as I knew I would need to pay close attention to the fast talking mole that led the gathering.
I smiled and stifled a giggle when I heard the leader begin with a clearing of his little throat. He spoke…
Beauty in us all
Unique and rare
Large or small
Look if you dare
Find it in the eyes
Close personal stareMajesty of life
Precious and dear
Resides in the gaze
Innocent and clear
Open minds and souls
Cherished and nearCompassion is found
In the heart of a child
Experience tamed
Rare in the wild
Kindness and gentleness
Tender, bold and mildBeauty in us all
Precious and fine
Perfect and tangible
Truly divine
Beyond the close flaws
Cross over the lineNever stop walking
Merging with life
In sickness and health
Love, joy and strife
As child and mother
As husband and wifeMajesty of living
Joined in this day
Holding their hands
Hearing all they say
Graciously loving
Walking the way
In another blink of an eye, they were gone. I still wonder if they were really there. Then I remind myself that it is the message, not the messengers, that really matters…
I was walking down by the creek this morning,
And I heard the slightest little ripple from the water below.
And looked to see a newt, as he found a comfortable spot on the smooth rock …
The rock had the smoothness of the ages,
Smoothed by the waves of water and time,
And the newt had the glimmer of that same sort of smoothness …
I was startled when she spoke to me.
In my experience, most female newts are quite reserved.
And I was a stranger to this part of the wood, this branch of the stream…
The newt’s name was Mystery; fitting, I remember thinking …
And this is what Mystery said to me …
‘The misery of the mysteries is a choice that is unknown to most of us …
When we see the truth,
That misery is but a choice ….
We can choose to be fully awake …
Fully alive ..
In the grace of the choice to see the clarity of life without it…
Without mystery, that is.
walk in the clarity of the light, fellow traveler.’
And with that, she slivered into the water …
And I continued my journey…
A bit lighter, a bit more clear …
