Reason Ends at Love

I.

All reason ends at Love

And there, at the borders and the foothills,

The cyclical train halts

To let the world weary and adventuresome off.

From the station they depart

Solitary or in twos

To cross the wastes and crags

Of false starts, betrayal and broken hearts.

Many lose their way, become sick and hard

Head back to the station and wait...

But reason’s train is difficult to resume

Once quit for the high domain of Love.

It stops to let off passengers

More often than pick-up

And many stops are in darker realms

Than the daybreak lands of Love

Yet those who pass through wastes,

Shadowed valleys and icy streams

To reach the stretching, rising roots

Of Love’s great mountain wall

Will see their trials multiply

At entering fair borderlands

Some will tire on a cliff face

To fall beneath bright mists

Some will turn for laziness—or fear

To wander back through lonely wilds

Some will fold before the crest

And sit and wallow—heedless of how far they’ve come.

Myriads lose all they are

On the mountain walls of Love

Still those who lose themselves upon

The mountain’s sunlit face

And yet continue chanting strong

“Further up and further in!”

These pilgrims cross the peak-tip’s blade

Not noticing its bite

And entering will find an inn

For their journey’s earned respite

II.

“Don’t pillow long your weary head”

The innkeeper will say

“You still have many lengthy miles to travel on the way”

At the summit you thought you’d found

Your journey’s ending place

But in the distance you can see

A higher mountain range

And all your efforts seem to be

A child’s mere bouldering

How can I climb those mountains there?

—I barely made these hills

My weak and fledgling efforts have

All but drained me of my will

“Fledgling? Yes, but don’t you fret”

Said the innkeeper with a smile

“I’ll guide you further on your way

Just walk another mile”

I thought it would be easier

I dreamed of a plateau

But now I see it’s harder still

There’s many miles to go

“You entered Love down at the roots

Of this great mountain wall

And those who failed to make it here

Retreated to their fall”

This journey ever upwards, inwards

Is harder than I thought it’d be

But I cannot imagine turning

That just might be the end of me

“So keep on going upwards, inwards

To the lands above the clouds

And when you cannot go on climbing

Call for me and don’t be proud”

Ridiculous! How can he come

To raise me up from the abyss

If he is here within this inn

While I fall off the precipice?

Then with a twinkle in his eye

The innkeeper did say:

“These lands are mine and I’m the King

I’m sure I’ll find a way.”

I Am Cold

My veins are ice my breath is dry

While winter burns my soul

And here I stand: an island lone

I’m so much less than whole

The sea of voices flow around

To barely glance my shores

My bluff-faced walls have kept me safe

But now I wish for more

An island lone enshroud in dark

Is torn to shreds by breeze

And shore’s pale comfort doesn’t last

When waves erode with ease

The rising tide heralds the sun

While I wait for a graze

Of some warm skin upon my sand

Or sun’s all burning blaze

And there! A sailor, here at last!

He must have seen my fire

His coming now has rescued me:

A lone and starved vampire


(Poetry Communities:
http://bigtentpoetry.org/
http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/2011/02/thursday-think-tank-35-shadows.html)

The Young Astronomer

One night a young astronomer

Did gaze upon a star

And saw it glowing brightly there

Like the antithesis of tar

He gathered up his scholar peers

To ask what it could mean

But they all said, “it’s meaningless.”

“Ask again if it turns green.”

They jeered and mocked him as they went

Not looking with their eyes

To see a star in daylight blaze -

What could it symbolize?

Yet two did stay to speak with him,

The young astronomer,

One who studied the histories

The other literature

They spoke of tales and prophecies

In some far western land

Of a coming king and saviour

Who would rise to God’s right hand

They asked the young astronomer

If he could lead them to

The place beneath the star’s zenith

Without further ado

The boy surprised to hear all this

Began to hesitate

But in the end he chose to lead

Their long adventure great

The men they packed their camels high

Provisions stacked in cliffs

And yet the boy said, “One more thing!”

“A king deserves some gifts.”

The two rich wise men thought to give

And spare no small expense

Thus they found the most lavish gifts

Purest gold and frankincense

The young lad wished to give as well

A kingly gift like myrrh

He worked and saved and sold his scrolls

His small means did not deter

He bought his gift and then they left

Just guided by a star

And through the desert and the plains

They journeyed from afar

After questing lengthened days through

Lands barren, burnt and wild

They came to a small Jewish town

And found a Jewish child

“This child,” said they, “Will one day be

The King above all kings

Great joy and mercy, justice too,

Love and hope is what he brings.”

They laid their wealthy presents down

At the small boy’s tiny feet

And Mary with her husband watched

Them give a royal greet

And then the young astronomer

Said “these our meager gifts

Laid at his feet are naught compared

To He who heals our rifts”

And if they entered in that day

Two magi and a boy

They left that place on homeward paths

Three wise men full of joy.

On a Diamond Fringed in Dark

Biking home from class one night

Through an empty city park

Glimpsing gave me quite a fright

On a diamond fringed in dark

Calmly sitting on the mound

In dark gloom’s obscurity

I was shocked at what I’d found

Staring fearless back at me

Two black eyes in shadows gleamed

Also twitching black tipped ears

Took me in - I thought I dreamed

Both of us forgetting fears

I stood beneath a harsh park light

While under moonless clouded sky

He sat regal, that feral sprite

So I thought to coax him nigh

And to my complete surprise

After I just clicked my tongue

He came close with watchful eyes

That small red fox so brave, so young

And when within ten feet he came

He sniffed and watched me close with care

Head atilt and tale aflame

He wondered at my prolonged stare

But then some noisy passers-by

Startled brave but wary fox

To his throne he sauntered spry

Upon his noiseless white-trimmed socks

And when I told of what I’d seen

Speaking of our short rapport

Their lack of interest was obscene

They said they’d seen it all before

Perhaps those passers were correct

Our odd meet was not the first

But is it best to just neglect

Beasts in urban lands immersed?

When the park was once more free

And I in thinking silence stood

The fox came back to question me

To see just what a strange thing would

Looking downwards at his grin

I threw this city fox a bite

He poked the crumb with his white chin

And sniffed to check if it’s alright

He wolfed his tiny morsels down

And opened wide his mouth to chew

Vigilantly he checked around

To see if I had more to strew

Once I’d lingered long enough

I left hardly making a sound

He watched me closely from the rough

Then strolled back to his noble mound

How long he stayed upon his throne

And watched over his whole domain

That I know I will not own

Perhaps I’ll see him once again

We all need silent stops at night

Inside gardens, beach or park

You never know what waits your sight

On a diamond fringed in dark




(I wrote this for my creative writing class, it's also a true story. Photo by: http://www.flickr.com/photos/permuted)


http://jinglepoetry.blogspot.com/

Sunfall

The birds have flown to Florida

And we begin our quick ferment

The days are falling faster dead

The cresting light is nearly spent

The failing sun long rests his head

So looking westward we still wait

Not trusting he will rise again

We’re in the waxing night of fate

The veil of darkness hides our plans

But thinly from nocturnal eyes

In pitch we’re strewed forgetting light

In love with bright but rotting lies

And when the winter meets its height

We frozen in a death unseen

Horizon’s edge of glowing sun

Will bleed out warmth on the obscene

And there will burn on all and one

A blaze to light the dark afar

But most with eyes fast shut will fear

The dawn so bright it leaves a scar

And sad it is in all this sphere

There will be just a remnant few

Who overjoyed will stand at spring;

Most will long for winter new

So they will crawl far from the ring

Of sun that burns their frostbite faint

Preferring just the dark of space;

They hide enamored with their taint

Yet those who stood in warmth of grace

Will find they’ve grown new leaves and roots

And not lament the night’s demise

When tasting winter’s ripened fruits

(The birds flew down to Florida

But will to reborn trees restore

Ferment is foiled in the rise

Of spring that comes forevermore.)

A Smiling Face (Leavetakings IV)

The green wall of the mountains hums

Silently with life under the grey-veiled sunlight.

I see the joy-valley of my youth rushing to greet me

The pinnacles in staggered rows to either side

Stand like an honor-guard for a returning monarch;

Their heads lost in the smoke

Of greedy clouds who stretch ravenous jaws

To devour the entire sky.

I see the falls that rush down past ferns and spruce

Down bounding grass hills and leaping grey cliffs

To meet the highway and pour their libations at my feet.

I see that mountain with the folds of stone

Like a discarded blanket

Or some ancient sea frozen in its undulation

And thrust up victoriously into the grey waves of the air;

Sea meeting sea

I go on to that dry valley where

Green irrigated fields form a stark patchwork

Against the thirsty straw-coloured hills

And then on to the lake that stretches its lazy legs

Down, down the valley

Tickling its distant toes in some forgotten river

Leaving its sleepy mass in the floor of the vale.

I enter into that city like one entering a forgotten dream

Still lost in the echoing well of the past

I drink deeply its draught but it brings no memory of the city;

Only the breeze of the dry air,

The smell of freshly picked sage

And a smiling face.

Her face

The one I came through all these meanderings of my past to reach

But not to touch

Only to see and to listen and to speak.

But the words and the time have been spent

And the ever-flowing inescapable waterfall of my journey

Has led me back to this city of exiles

Spread in a land with no peaks to watch over us

No falls splash and babble their welcome

No hints of the distant ocean reach this stagnant air

Diminutive parks form a stark patchwork

Against the cold iron and faceless sprawl of concrete

And the steel pinnacles here have too many unseeing eyes.

Yet I strove into past-lands

I spoke careful words and listened to subdued responses

I saw and heard beauty
Only to turn away again

Leaving that glorious sun-blessed, moon-kissed vale

Back in the shimmering fadings of memory

Unaware if I should be drawn there again

By a smiling face.

Ambivalence on the Heath

(I wrote this last year. It is about the times when you do what is comfortable and easy instead of what you know to be right; and it's about getting past those times.)

When dark the paths of evening grow

And pale the light remains

The lands lay still apart from crows

Their hollow calls disdain

Those watchers and those walkers still

Upon the roads below

Who fight and strive to go at will

Beyond the heath plateau.

And I amongst those strivers stay;

A shadow in the moors,

Lonely wandering from the way

To open secret doors.

I find within a comfort spot;

A place to rest my head

And there I stay - it seems my lot

To rest until I'm dead.

It's safer here beneath this roof

Than walking the long road

And maybe I will see some proof

That lifts my heavy load.

Until that day I'll rest and wait

As my short time grows dim

And in me grows a rising hate

For life upon the rim.

The rim of all that it should be;

Of pain and struggles more.

I've settled for a tiny fee.

I'm all that I abhor.

And when the loathing grows too much

I'll set out once again

Before I turn a wraith; no touch

Will warm this hollow man.

And on the path once more I'll see

The struggles and survive.

I'll learn that it takes more for me

To feel and act alive.

As I do march through this long night,

By light of guiding Star,

I slowly see dawn's pale new light

Now glowing from afar.

From there, beyond the fresh green lands,

I see the shining sea

The sun does rise with open hands

And warmly welcomes me. 

From under the crumbling bridge

The night sluggishly pulls a slimy moon into the pitch

Bleeding out its pallid light on the dim city

And splashing its aura on the

Corners of buildings, the frail windows and the mirror-pools

In the street, dancing back into the icy breathless-air

A fog of exhale glimmers in the moon-blood

From under the crumbling bridge

Blackness heaped on blackness held back

By the weak arms of Luna

A cough echoes in the throat of the bridge

From the deep stomach of its distended belly

It groans with its digestion

While a one-eared cat walks by

- looking for smaller rats to tackle

Then, as if it opened a tiny shimmering eye,

An orange speck of light shines out from underneath

While the bridge’s uncooperative dinner

Wakes to a damp cigarette