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
it was not until i found myself swimming alone
that i realised he was my rock
taken for granted always there
though i had watched the life source dim
with regret and compassion
there is no other rock out there
in the endless sea
now i see why he tried to teach me
to float to dry land, each time i swam off
flailing my arms about
in an empty room
i held my breath
in silence
with thoughts of a lonely granite rock
far out to sea
where the cry of birds is deafening
where the surf spray rises in air
and the high sky above is grey
Having seen a phrase about a mountain path beset with tigers I recalled a dream I had in which my dream horse (a frequent visitor) was unusually allowing me to guide and choose our path (usually I just go where I am taken) and I began to ascend a very steep mountain track and my horse began to struggle but yet still obeyed me until I felt ashamed of the damage I was doing to the horse so I stopped and apologised. My horse immediately forgave me and turned to pastures and galloped to the sea. I took this dream to mean that if we ‘’go with the flow’’, that is Awen, we learn far more than by forcing our own view and decisions upon our life and the way – the sea is not high like a mountain (where perhaps I had foolishly wanted to ‘dominate the peak and look down on all’) but it is a symbol at the very least of the source of life and it ‘’goes with the flow’’, and the moon.
I have also written a poem about a year ago about encountering a dragon in a steep place and the Tower (interspersed with some comments from ordinary daily life when when my dreaming is not looked upon favourably by others). All I longed for was peace by the river (with my muse) in the realm of imagination and the natural flow of the path. Obstacles can be overcome with some determination but most of all with imagination.
Escape from the Tower
Climbing the mountain, trying to reach the tower
Confronted by a dragon, endlessly asking me riddles,
While a great storm gathers all about us
Thunderbolts roar, lightning reflects on my shield
(“What do you do in that room all the time?
What are you thinking about?’’
I stop and get the food
And gather the rubbish that needs to go out)
I am losing my footing on the slippery rocks.
The dragon flashes his eyes with desire
I have to succeed, cannot be overpowered,
I call on the rain to quench his fire
(“Always off in imagination,
What’s wrong with you?
You spend hours on that
And it’s not even true’’)
I answer the final riddle, the dragon steps aside.
My way no longer barred, I struggle on up the mountain.
The tower reaches up to the clouds
Eagles circle above, come to help me in my troubles
(“I know you have talent?
Why don’t you use it?’’
“I work too!’’ i say
“You could work more!’’ says she)
The eagle carries me up to the princess, we hover.
She reaches out to me. I swing her onto the eagles back.
My arm circles her waist, her hair flies in my face.
She leans back on me in relief.
(“You always were some other place,
Even as a child. No different now than ever.
Why can’t you just be normal,
And stay in reality?’’)
We circle together above the now sunlit valleys
Looking down from above, we avoid all the cities and castles
And land in a summer meadow by a singing stream
She adorns herself with flowers, I dream
I died out on these moors, my bones are here.
I feel them in the pooled reflections in mud,
the wind in the bare gorse and the crows’ flight.
Later, in the mines, under weight of rock
darkness enfolded around me. No hope.
I knew I would die when the lamp guttered out.
The next time I was spared the mines labour.
Instead they sent me off to their war in France.
No grave when a shell blows flesh apart.
Many times I have died at my fireside.
I once burned in flames for heresy.
Never have I died in the sea.
The death I would wish for is the pure one
with the mist and the crow on the moor,
to rest in my own land forever at home
the day they met
the wind turned
in slow pirouette
the curtains at the window,
caught and pulled by the breeze,
flew away to the open sea
dreaming of shipwrecks
ragged rocks
pounding surf
wind turning fast
this ship rides the waves
as we aim for the Pole star
leading us homeward
watching for lights
and the beacons that blaze
no more cross currents
no undertow darkness
we are sailing for land
on a swell and wave
cutting through sea spray
the boom and the crash
of the thundering breakers
as we cross o’er the bar
from sweet tidal ocean
the moonlit path reaches
the beautiful river
and harbours embrace
bringing us back
where we are remembered
for just who we are
drop anchor
make fast
and sing of the sea
sweet tides
in the depths
the mermaid hides
where no-one goes
sweet tides
comb her hair
she swims up
when no-ones there
sweet tides
wash her near
her sailor waits
she need not fear
sweet tides
wash them close
they sink down
in loves embrace
sweet tides
where life grows
water warms
water cools
sweet tides
the currents flow
a wave to ride
or drown below
sweet tides
the sky reflects
green depths
blue above
sweet tides
in his eyes
sweet tides
pools of love
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
two notes echo still
near the piano
they hover
middle C, B flat
a warm scent
jasmine and almonds
hangs in the air
footsteps
softly retreating
I remember that
whenever I think
of the music room
the passageway
door to the garden
open a crack
the window
looks out to the sea
where the tides
roll out and back
washed over grey
to the distant blue
The Dreaming Path 