DustySpirit Poetry: Pit Stop

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Words: Path-Setting series

Path-Setting

Majesty swells in the over-brimming horizon
and filtering shafts of sunset
aglow between the purpling clouds
now crimson
are the bright questions
for dusk's heady answer
deep-breathed in my expanding chest.

I can still see further than I can go,
the road down which you can come.
Let us meet in wide-open spaces
letting answers blanket us like dew,
drink of the God-Life offered for ages
and endure
into the far watches of the night.

August

Shadowy sentinels slip round brilliant banners
assemblaged on cloudy pavilions in Demeter’s
waxing sky to mark summer’s waning day.
We have mountains for a moment before the
delicate giants grow top-heavy and float away.

The heavenly hazy-green half-light in the west
follows their jumbling journey.
The amphitheatre hushes in anticipation.
Banners fold in deference to the brightening stage;
from green to gold, descending as the gods
in spot-lit fervor,
the theatre is fraught with gold
as wide shafts play east and I shield my eyes,
shrinking in a different kind of ecstasy
like the shaman finally manhandled by truth
instead of demons…

Balls bounce, hammocks swing, grills smoke,
and the dandelions dance in the suburban breeze.
Already it is time for me to return,
but I am free to wonder and to ponder what
walks beyond these dusty spirit glories.

Step Aside

The monastic presence meters in
Through multifold deference partings turn.
The lingering silence brushes past
In voluminous incense rising up.
Breathe singular grievance reckoned naught
Oh responsive penance chanting prayer.

The monastic order meters out
But their presence lingers everywhere.
Shifting robes in corridors of stone
Step out the day, doll out the seasons
Until the very borders of life are known
In quiet discipline. They have their reasons.

Shedding

The silence provisions my journey
Your presence envelops my heart
My spirit awakens in heaven
To ponder nevermore in part.

Time Between

Do not yet succumb to that blissful tide.
The cusp of eternity awaits the gaze
Of your inner eye for an instant so rare
As the halos unfold from antiquity’s care
And you stare unhindered, soak unveiled
Through the myriad of temporal progeny
Unfurling before you.

My being cannot help being moved
To behold the sum and the parts together.
To know the prophets felt what they could not say
And the poets knelt when they could not write
And my heart stops as if on cue,
The threshold reached for spirit imbued.

Before me a seed grows and fills,
Born beyond time’s measure
Its being confronts me with utter clarity
And I back away from foreign purity.
I contaminate!
“No,” a small voice whispers.
“Not contaminate. But rather
may I consummate my righteousness in you?”

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