On turning I try to stay
Well out of the way
In the dream
I entered a cavernous space
Light streamed in through windows
Set in an impossibly high wall
It curved
All around me
The inner workings
The floor boards
I almost expected to see
Dali and a squadron of flying cats
So odd a place this was
Until I realized
It was me
I was inside myself
The walls and ceiling
Were my own skin
Seen from the inside
Pipes and beams my bones
But inside
Where my consciousness
Now found itself
Was a vast cavern
Of emptiness
A fear gripped me
That all I had ever been
Was a sometimes pretty
But entirely hollow
Vessel
I wept
Cried out
Tried to shake out the dream
And wake up
Until…
I smelled the rain in the air
Heard the droplets
Tapping the leaves
Outside my window
Felt the cool of the night…
On my body
Outside the vessel
Palpating it
To see if there was any truth
To the hollowness
None that I could feel
“But you know you are”
Came a voice
From deep inside
Ringing with echoes
The fear, again
The tears, again
And a sorrow, full
As the cavern
Was hollow
Then another voice spoke
With the sibilant promise
Of a whisper in my ear
“A hollowness waiting
To be filled”
Day’s end
A gentle paddle
On glassy seas
My body
At peace
With my mind
With the land
With the water
With the sky
My spirit rises
To the surface
Of my being
My consciousness
Swirls in the essence
Of all that is
Like eddies
Hugging a paddle
In a vast
Bottomless
Sea
I look deep within
Marvel at the unknowable infinity of being
A reminder that I stand as a presence
Manifested of an essence
Without dimension or time
Would you return my
Gaze were it not for the lens
Friends for an instant
Stillness
Is a peace
I’ve sought
And known
But I’ve known
No peace greater
Than the joy of
Flight
In motion
There is
Stillness
So much depends
On the construct, Love
Conscious
Unconscious
Conditioned
Unconditional
Unshareable
Unless a context
Shared
Cropped and framed
Colour corrected and edited
Burnished and patinaed
To make a picture
That tells the story
I wish to remember
There is nothing so beautiful
As a moment offered in whole
To the act of creation
Except perhaps
One given
To love
Words arranged in verse
Form a matrix of possibility
An author’s intentions
A reader’s interpretations
Layers deep
Miles wide
All this also present
In a single word such as
Aum
Love
God
Beauty
Perfection
Each a poem with all the
Subtle renderings and possibilities of
Angelou
Frost
Dickinson
Shakespeare
Plath
The final meaning rests solely
And rightfully with the reader