The Word for Writers
An unforced moment
Clouds a cross a bright sky
A sudden dip, a grip of chill
Thoughts seemingly laid to rest come streaming over numb edge
My morning sun turns into storm clouds of un-tempered emotions laid to rest come alive -
What does it matter what ought to be that is not
What really ought to be is, is forming or yet to be
Thoughts, expectations, things desired in some immature state of being
What is, is and is reality -
Grand overture of peculiarly toned midnight chorus
Sad songs sang by beautiful, velvet voices
My tears, a burning stream carving channels
Memories flow, like always deepening river valleys of time -
What is, what ought to be
Strength in obedience
Despair and despondence in failure
David shivering in old age, Solomon mourning Absalom -
Christ on Calvary
Agony of obedience, rusted nails and shredding timber
Stench of death
Glorious acclamation of victory – It is done! -
Of what is and what ought to be
Silence hanging between mood and mind
Verses recited in silent hours of dawn’s indifference
Frozen mornings when chill is cutting breathe shredding lungs heaving -
Celestial allegiance elegant unmediated
My sober faith and eternity in silent vigilance
My alternate reality of angels in gentle attendance
Grand glory of heavenly chorus proclaiming praise, and then only silence -
In these grand vistas of Heaven spread above
Amidst light of glorious presences
Free is our will secured by obedience
Morning prayers sung by tradition in chaste latin –
Solemn acquired faith
Living through a sense of dignified belief
Held in bosoms clasped against indifference
Lest in letting go we lose all -
Child, a memory forged in distance
Flesh of my flesh, blood of mine, a stranger wary
Imaginary love fading in light of reality
Silence of weeping heart echoing in emptiness -
Little arms stretching across empty space reaching out
Fragile life, love seeking a solace shared, then
Just yawning emptiness of silent space
How do make up for what is not? -
Inspiration coming at dawn
Silence riding quietness
A filling of nothing
A thing that is and yet not -
II
Cutting edge of sorrow
A glint of sharp wisdom
Slicing in clean cuts
Incisive inspiration on morn of a new day -
You who have travelled so far
Have you found peace at end of road?
Even as you learn new ways of living
So much noise yet so little to hear -
III
In this sudden glow of sunny afternoon
Heat of summer afternoon redolent of lazy ease
I perceive a distant land
A town set on a sandbar set between two great water bodies –
A raging, noisy restless Atlantic with its bromide of dashing waves on golden sands
A quiet slush of mighty lagoon stretching far beyond eye sight
A vast plenitude of shimmering water dancing in hot tropical sun
A place in tropical sun….-
In lonely world of life
In quiet niches of enabled room
We tend to catch glimpses
Snatching bits of pieces of a wholesomeness that we often do not quite grasp –
In that constant unceasing flow of action that life is
These glimpses of inspired reality is all that matters
At such moments we gain perspective of something grand and wonderful
A part of which we are –
There are many times when streaming flow of life pauses
For an instant, we are set face to face with a thing
Against which we stand alone, a thing no one can understand, experience or appreciate
But one person facing a moment stilled but momentarily in time –
At that moment one’s vulnerability shrinks into nothingness
All help being futile,
One comes face to face with fate and fate’s designator
At such moments of singularity nothing else matters other than your faith -
There are times of truth
When there is no playing to mocking gallery of irrelevance
There is a time and a few more when one stands face to face with truth
An unforced moment facing lonely truth -
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