Truth undefined

Does the title I’ve chosen seem an unlikely one?

I would posit that, after much searching,

the hard rock of truth is more the fleeting glimpse of shadow,

than stone edifice.

That the archetype Truth is a myth without independent existence,

beholden to specific conditions, which are, themselves impermanent.

Truth is fluid, changeable. Any given definition

reflects the truth of a moment only, gone before it is even fully realized.

Truth indeed is not discovered by firm grasp, instead it reveals itself in letting go.

 

 

 

 

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MY SIMPLE LIFE (1)

This blog has been a wonderful outlet for the random musings and unanticipated thought fragments that seem to perpetually traverse my mind. Through poetry I’ve found a method of examining and coping with emotional turmoil, that kept bottled up, eventually becomes rancid and toxic.

Without prattling on endlessly, I’ll share with you that several years ago I experienced a series of traumatic events severe enough to make rebuilding the life I had impossible.

Much of what I’d thought of as absolutely essential was irredeemable. At 44 years old I was faced with the terrifying prospect of finding a completely different way to live, something I wasn’t even certain was possible.

Being so fundamentally hurt, the first eighteen months were little more than a process of slow healing. I didn’t think about what came next during this time, because I wasn’t convinced there would be a next.

When I finally tried to pull myself together it was quickly apparent that too many pieces couldn’t be made to fit anymore. That was very sad since I’d had some of them most of my life, and didn’t want to see them go.

So, I was left with the question, who was I?…………………………………………………… (to be con’t)

 

Authors note: While I have no intention of abandoning poetry, I think it’s time to bring this blog more in alignment with it’s original mission statement, which is simply to help, and to do that it’s important to understand the circumstances of it’s creation.

 

One

An ancient knowledge

a remnant truth

learned in the time

when Man was youth,

 

You are not, or ever were

alone

that feat, my friends

cannot be done,

 

Those tricks we use

to separate

are as dreams

and without weight,

 

These tricks

that cause us so much pain

are a vile poison

in our veins,

 

Leaving us lost, confused

depressed

souring our happiness,

 

We’ve told ourselves

they’re useful tools

but of what use

heart-broken fools?

 

There is not

an Us and Them

there never was

it’s never been,

 

There’s only We

and We are kin

to each and every

living thing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Remember Gratitude

It sometimes slips my mind,

when I think of commands my body can no longer obey,

to give thanks that there was a time it could.

In those quiet moments,

when beloved voices long silent whisper in memory,

to be mindful that countless shared moments created them.

In contemplation it seems a grave disservice,

to mourn things lost,

without remembering and rejoicing that they once were.

 

 

 

Tell Me, Knight

A serpent’s hiss from an oozing pestilent mouth,

” What weapon will you choose, when you come to challenge me in the dark?”.

“What armor will guard your soft organs from my jagged claws, my ripping fangs?”.

“Will the heft of the axe comfort your approach?”.

“Perhaps the keen bright edge of a well honed blade?”.

“Will you come with the stride of a gun’s weight on your waist?”.

“Tell me, Knight!”, the Thing gleefully, horridly cackled, certain of It’s victory.

The Warrior stepped from shadow with barefoot, silent tread.

No armor betrayed his approach.

No axe or long knife encumbered his hand to ring off the stone walls.

No gun unbalanced his gait on the rough ground.

Striking the small light he held in his left hand, he stood before the Thing.

“What madness is this? The thing spat, coiling in surprise.

Calmly, without anger the Warrior spoke.

“No madness, I’ve carried with me all I need.”,

“A heart without fear.”,

“A light to find the path.”,

“A glass to reflect the truth.”.

The polished glass in his right hand, raised aloft,

caught the Thing’s eye for but a heartbeat,

it was enough.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sunrise Prayer

I prayed a prayer for you today,

as the Sun rose over the pines,

and watched it float aloft,

on alabaster wings of love,

knowing not what vast expanses,

what cosmic abysses,

it must traverse,

while on It’s journey,

within my soul,

not the tiniest seed of doubt grew,

from the seamless faith,

that It reached It’s far destination,

even as the words left my mouth.