return

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POETRY OF THE HEART

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YOUR BREATH

 
             Each morning,
             under an indigo sky,
             I walk the path
             to the shore.

             There feeding
             the hungry world
             with bits of my self
             until I am no more.

             I await the gentle touch
             of your breath on
             my cheek.

             To become whole
             once more.

                   Mace
 
 

NOW

            When, if not Now?
            Yesterday, lies like
             a stone mountain unmoving,
             unchanging, except in our
             memories.
             Tomorrow is but a flitting
             fantasy wherein we try to
             pin our dreams of Better.
             But Now is a sleeping giant
             that awaits the chance to dance
             to the music of our laughter,
             spin with the rapture
             of our understanding,
             and weep at the beauty
             of our grace.

             Let us sit, you and I
             and watch the autumn breeze
             move the leaves.

                  Mace
 

RETURNING

            Where in this world
            can You be?
            Take out your compass
            and travel East.
            You will find yourself
            returning from the West.
            Travel due North and
            you return from the South.
            Arise Up and you return
            from Below.
            Go Inside and arrive
            from Without.
            I will tell you a
            great secret,
            You are Here.

            Now let Us make
            some tea
            and enjoy the company.

                Mace

 
 
 

INFINITE PASTURES

        In early July,
            the wind begins to smile and tickle
            the sea of tall pasture grasses.

        In the morning,
            from west to east,
            it puffs its breath
            so that sunlight dapples
            each blade¹s shiny surface,
            an infinite chorus of
            sparkling green and gold.

        By early afternoon,
            it turns stronger,
            east to west,
            seasoned by salt air,
            frothing the grass into rippling waves
            carrying daisies and buttercups
            like flecks of colored foam.

        At dusk, the ebb tide,
            the sun lowers,
            the colors intensify,
            each blade is glazed in pink,
            and the field sways
            as if breathing
                Gently.
                The mind quiets.
                The body rests.
                    And for a moment,
                    this tiny seed grain
                        floats free on the
                            slowing wind.
 
 

                            Ellie
 

 

BRIGHT WINGS
 

            Blessings fall softly
            Like petals from blossoms
            Stirred by the sigh of a breeze.
            The heart soars lightly
            In a luminous sky,
            Aloft with the ravens,
            At one with it all,
            Yearning for God
            To fold us
            Into his bright wings.
 
 

                            Ellie