Author: Wisdomofrhiannon

I dreamed a dream of white flowers
Fragrant and delicate
A delight to the eye
A scent so divine
It transformed the spirit
And touched the soul.

The class begins
Quickly the air
Is filled with soft moans
And slightly louder groans.

Bones crack in rhythm
Synchronised breath
Gasps in and out
As we follow the moves.

The time between
Beginning and End
Soon passes, and finishes
With joy and a smile.

Another day
When we know
We are still alive
Glory!

Down
The stairs
I tumbled
Head over heels.
From top
To bottom
Bumpty bump
My body
Welcoming each stair
Until eventually
The ground said,
“Hello!”

As I grow older
I understand
The difference
Between wisdom
And foolishness
Less and less.

We sat, two men, on the same park bench.
Unusually, we spoke, one to another.
Of this, of that, and then of the quality of bushes.
He, not as a gardener might speak, but instead,
As a patron, who nightly sleeps beneath one.

He told me of the virtues of the best. Thick enough,
to keep off the worst of the rain. Low enough,
to easily crawl under, to remain hidden
from the drunk, or the worried policeman,
checking to see you still breathed.

Next, we talked of families. He hoped, still,
to be reunited with his. To see his children, his wife,
and once more, return to his home, precious word.
A home with a bed, a roof, safe and secure,
far from the bush he would sleep under tonight.

At bedtime, I thought of him, as I pulled my sheets,
the finest Egyptian cotton, around me,
and listened to the rain falling outside.
As the wind shook the windows, I wondered,
which bush would offer him shelter tonight?

A holy space, created
By the hand of man,
Yet filled,
With the presence of the Divine.

Created by John the Mason
As thanks to God
For saving the life of his son.

A Chapel,
carved into the shear rock face.
Within, a stillness,
A sense of the Divine.

Without, the world turns,
Unknowing, uncaring,
Unaware, of this presence.

He always said proudly
That his diary ruled his life.
Every hour, every day
Filled with appointments.

Even when he returned home,
It was to sit at his computer
To keep on top of his emails,
So easy to fall behind.

Bank holidays, like weekends,
Were a nuisance, but also,
An opportunity
To shift some of the paperwork.

How could the company do without him?
He was so hard-working,
And everyone said the office
Would collapse without him.

He woke one day
In an ambulance.
Dimly aware of the siren, the flashing blue light,
And the pain in his chest.

Three months later,
The HR manager visited
With his redundancy notice,
And his final salary check.

Somehow the office
Had got on without him.
She wished him well
In his future career.

It felt like a kick in the teeth,
After all he had done for them,
The extra hours,
His complete commitment

It was another three months
Before he realised,
What a blessing
The heart attack had been.

Stood on a mountaintop,
Looking across hills and valleys,
Breathing in fresh air,
He welcomed the fact,
That life had offered him a second chance.

I did not hear its fall.
Only saw the great body laid at rest.
It was not the woodsman’s axe that felled it,
Nor the lightning bolt dispatched by a great storm.
No, its demise was caused by something far greater.
Time.

In the moonlight,
Flowers dance,
Silver chords play,
Earth harmonies rise,
Celestial music soars.

In their deep folds,
Oceans stir,
Foam-flecked waves dance,
Swaying to the harmony,
Of sun and moon.

For it is the time
Of the stirring,
When invisible creation
Sings its eternal hymn
To all creatures great and small.

Amongst mankind,
Few hear it,
Fewer still,
Dance to it.

May you,
Divine soul,
Hear the call,
And join the dance.

In the stillness of my mind,
Thoughts arise.
Good, bad or indifferent,
Still they come,
Some quietly, some screeching,
Hear me, hear me.

Yet I know,
There is a veil of silence,
An utter joy,
Of inward contemplation
To be found.
Only persevere,
I tell myself.

Sometimes the journey
Is a short one.
Too often the journey
Is a hard one,
Sometimes a failed one.
Yet the experience
Of joy bliss and love
That can be found
Keeps me searching.