when i visit with Freya the world hides away
always the unwelcome guest at the table
there is no room for me under the sun
i am derided, avoided, despised
i am named as all that is bad
they say that i follow false gods
even the gods of Valhalla blamed me
when they counted me amongst them,
as one eternally treacherous, mad
they stole a month of my time
while i count the circling of moons
ascending, resurrecting, enlightening
have no fear of me, welcome me in
who am i?
moon
A Love Story ~ Rosa & Arjuna
Two lovers
separated
by the stretch
of open ocean
endless sky
moonlight passing
day to night
Arjuna’s window pointed west
While Rosa’s looked out to the east
Of their love they both were sure
Only water lay between them
Only time would be the test
Whether love could long endure
They had vowed to watch the moon
Each one in their lonely room
Far apart, but close in heart
They watched the silver face
Passing in and out of sight
Held aloft in lovely light
Counting moons
The months passed by
In time Rosa ceased to cry
She had now become enamored
Of watching starlit nights
And changing skies
Counting moons
The years passed by
Arjuna drowned his tears in books
Slowly he began to write
He described the stars
And all the glories of the night
He described all she saw
As they watched the sky together
Together yet so far apart
They reached a sweet contentment
Beyond the reach of lovers art
Contemplating all they saw
Did they ever meet again?
If fate was kind I think they did.
Where it was I cannot say.
May the light of heaven lead them.
The moon has never shone so bright
As I saw it shine tonight.
A Question of Numbers
In one year we travel four billion miles around the Sun
Without even stirring a limb.
We dream fifteen thousand dreams,
Remembering almost none.
How significant those that we do.
In a lifetime we may see nine hundred New Moons
Twenty-five thousand sunsets,
Twenty-five thousand dawns.
How many do we really see?
How significant those that we do.
How many times might my love smile at me?
How many times will we kiss?
How many dreams can we make come true
Before time flees and is gone?
How significant those that we do.
If I thought I’d be gone tomorrow
What would I say and do?
Nothing significant
The light comes and goes across the earth;
A clock hand that sweeps us away.
Butterflies, unaware
blue, silent and deep
blue silent and deep
loud white rolling
green light through wave curl
sun sparkle shimmering
draw back slow and heavy
rush fast towards me
hold my eyes for hours
captured in your spell
moving with my breath
and the moons pull
spin me in your force
pull me down
and throw me out
gasping to the sky
On the Wane
1.
here in a bubble of moonlight
no strong winds can blow me
i sit and watch the world go by
floating, bound, unfeeling
what is this spell that holds me
enclosed and isolated
surrounded by air and light
contained in silence
i try to reach out, the bubble stretches.
untouched yet never quite defeated
i look out, no-one comes near
i long to feel earth beneath my feet
this curse is but a fleeting moment
in the time of the waning i am winnowed
all things pass and change and pass
the moon will wax again at last
2,
paths keep crossing for their own reasons
the twirl of the world, the switch of the season
cycles coming, growing, going
we turn to each other familiar faces
lit by moonlight, hidden by shadows
the stranger you meet who holds up a light
comes in the dusk and leaves in the night
3.
the moment the moon begins to wane
all the old predators come back again
snarling and circling and snapping their jaws
prowling around me, sniffing the air
they smell my defeat before its begun
should i offer my throat and be done
is there final release in their teeth
no sanctuary, no solace, no welcoming peace
so far from the fire, the torch and the hearth
so many riddles i cant answer
all my answers misunderstood
no star to guide me, lost in the wood
bound to a tree, yet i break free
when the darkest hour strikes
i refuse the final sacrifice
there is music, sunlight, life
i sink down to rise again
The White Cow
the palace of gold and blue
stood high above on the hill
shimmering in heat like a mirage
the chatter of monkeys was shrill
in the river below elephants bathed
later that evening, so clearly recalled now,
as the sun dipped down in a pink haze
we saw a sadhu with a white cow
we followed to a tea stall
by the steps of an old temple
the cow so beautiful, gentle
its eyes lined with khol
wore a garland of marigold and a bell
that rang softly as it gazed at me
reaching my heart and casting a spell
on the temple steps we sat
slowly sipping hot tea
beneath a sickle moon and one bright star
we spoke in quiet voices
until the man and the cow both bowed and walked on
i see that cow as clearly years later
as if it was but a moment ago
i listened to the sadhu’s every word
it was the white cow i heard
it spoke only of acceptance and love
Ghazal ~ Not the Moon
When happiness eludes us in the dark,
dying in the wane, forsake not the moon
It will wax again, shine its silver light,
the turning tide will ache. Not the moon.
When spring is young and full of love, the sun
brings pleasure, gladdens day, wake not the moon.
The morning chorus brings us new born day.
Birdsong floats above the lake. Not the moon.
It is dawn above the soft horizon
that will our tenderness untimely break. Not the moon.
When Venus orbits high above, my love is in
my arms again, the night, delight, take not the moon!
In the Garden of the Gods
they are not far away, they are near
the old gods cry out to us
from beneath city streets
come closer, if you would hear
the moon is hidden in daylight
waiting to light the path of the night
in silvery tones and pearl
come closer, if you would hear
the trees whisper a constant prayer
the voice of the leaves, the dance of the branch
the breath of exchange that holds us all
come closer, if you would hear
the rivers run out, the veins of all life
the clouds pour down a blessing
the sea is the constantly beating heart
come closer, if you would hear
above the rooftops venus shines
the daidem, a star, entwined in her twilight hair
she sings the song of the life spark and the long dark
come closer, if you would hear
they are not far away, they are always here
the world is a garden for which we must care
before the old gods slip silent away
come closer, if you would hear
Autumn
I sit in the window alone
above the darkened garden
and the lamplit streets
that lead to the far away hills.
The lamp behind me
casts my own shadow down
onto the empty lawn.
A passing stranger looks up,
hurries on and is gone.
A father carries his daughter home.
She droops on his shoulder, asleep.
The only sound is the traffic
and a party and laughter,
distant, along the street.
The moon is hidden by billowing cloud.
The stars up above are unseen.
Looking down to the gloom of the garden
I take comfort
in only the smallest things –
a frail light that shines on apple tree leaves
and the sweet, gentle autumn air.
On the Wane
1.
here in a bubble of moonlight
no strong winds can blow me
i sit and watch the world go by
floating, bound, unfeeling
what is this spell that holds me
enclosed and isolated
surrounded by air and light
contained in silence
i try to reach out, the bubble stretches.
untouched yet never defeated
i look out, but no-one comes near
i long to feel earth solid beneath my feet
this curse is a fleeting moment
in the waning i am winnowed
all things pass and change and pass
the moon will wax again at last
2,
paths keep crossing for their own reasons
the twirl of the world, the switch of the season
cycles coming, growing, going
we turn to each other familiar faces
lit by moonlight, hidden by shadows
the stranger you meet who holds up a light
comes in the dusk and leaves in the night
3.
the moment the moon begins to wane
all the old predators come back again
snarling and circling and snapping their jaws
prowling around me, sniffing the air
they smell my defeat before its begun
should i offer my throat and be done
is there a final release in their teeth
no sanctuary, no solace, no welcoming peace
so far from the fire, the torch and the hearth
so many riddles i can never answer
all my answers misunderstood
no star to guide me, lost in the wood
bound to a tree, yet i break free
when the dark hour strikes
no ritual sacrifice
there is music, sunlight, life
i only sink down to rise again
The Dreaming Path 