Borderland by Imogene Engine

The stars are changing, we look for them,
argue about
their location

People take turns speaking in different languages, but they
still have
the same questions

The children pretend to be trees;
they stand very still and
hold branches

The dream continues, the glimpse of the divine disorients
Before birth, souls wandering as feelings
I went into the shadow world and died

My angel whispers to me: don’t turn away

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Dreaming in Heaven by Brian G Mc Enery

Clarity lives in a dream
Lucidity in the stream of consciousness
Which flows from below
The inner impulse of our soul
Pulsing with knowledge
Vibrating within itself, the joy of Heaven
For We are already in paradise Although at times it may not feel so
Just new unexpected territory to explore
Uncertainty is always a challenge
But opens the way for our dreams

A gift by Denise Levertov

Just when you seem to yourself
nothing but a flimsy web
of questions, you are given
the questions of others to hold
in the emptiness of your hands,
songbird eggs that can still hatch
if you keep them warm,
butterflies opening and closing themselves
in your cupped palms, trusting you not to injure
their scintillant fur, their dust.
You are given the questions of others
as if they were answers
to all you ask. Yes, perhaps
this gift is your answer.

OM by AE

Om
Faint grew the yellow buds of light
        Far flickering beyond the snows,
As leaning o’er the shadowy white
        Morn glimmered like a pale primrose.

Within an Indian vale below
        A child said “Om” with tender heart,
Watching with loving eyes the glow
        In dayshine fade and night depart.

The word which Brahma at his dawn
        Outbreathes and endeth at his night;
Whose tide of sound so rolling on
        Gives birth to orbs of golden light;

And beauty, wisdom, love, and youth,
        By its enchantment, gathered grow
In age-long wandering to the truth,
        Through many a cycle’s ebb and flow.

And here all lower life was stilled,
        The child was lifted to the Wise:
A strange delight his spirit filled,
        And Brahm looked from his shining eyes.

Elegy in Joy by Muriel Rukeyser

We tell beginnings: for the flesh and the answer,
or the look, the lake in the eye that knows,
for the despair that flows down in widest rivers,
cloud of home; and also the green tree of grace,
all in the leaf, in the love that gives us ourselves.

The word of nourishment passes through the women,
soldiers and orchards rooted in constellations,
white towers, eyes of children:
saying in time of war What shall we feed?
I cannot say the end.

Nourish beginnings, let us nourish beginnings.
Not all things are blest, but the
seeds of all things are blest.
The blessing is in the seed.

This moment, this seed, this wave of the sea, this look, this instant of love.
Years over wars and an imagining of peace. Or the expiation journey
toward peace which is many wishes flaming together,
fierce pure life, the many-living home.
Love that gives us ourselves, in the world known to all
new techniques for the healing of the wound,
and the unknown world. One life, or the faring stars.

The Prayer of the Year by Ethelwyn Wetherald

Leave me Hope when I am old,
Strip my joys from me,
Let November to the cold
Bare each leafy tree;
Chill my lover, dull my friend,
Only, while I grope
To the dark the silent end,
Leave me Hope!

Blight my bloom when I am old,
Bid my sunlight cease;
If it need be from my hold
Take the hand of Peace.
Leave no springtime memory,
But upon the slope
Of the days that are to be,
Leave me Hope!

The waking by Theodore Roethke

I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.   
I feel my fate in what I cannot fear.   
I learn by going where I have to go.

We think by feeling. What is there to know?   
I hear my being dance from ear to ear.   
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.

Of those so close beside me, which are you?   
God bless the Ground!   I shall walk softly there,   
And learn by going where I have to go.

Light takes the Tree; but who can tell us how?   
The lowly worm climbs up a winding stair;   
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.

Great Nature has another thing to do   
To you and me; so take the lively air,   
And, lovely, learn by going where to go.

This shaking keeps me steady. I should know.   
What falls away is always. And is near.   
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.   
I learn by going where I have to go.

Entry October 15 by Walter Benton

Everyone is sleeping. Nothing wakes. The woods
are motionless. The wind is down to a whisper.
Sleep hums like current – yes, audibly – through the bright steel night.

The evening star rises like a flaming wick.
Hills fit into hills like lovers, their great dark straddling thighs
clasping still greater darkness where they meet. A star breaks,
arcs down the night – like God striking a match across the cathedral ceiling.

Therefore I wish: see my lips move – making your name. It is so still,
so still. I am sure that you must hear me.

Go far; Come near by Walter de la Mare

Go far; come near;
You still must be
The centre of your own small mystery.
Range body and soul –
Gone on to further goal,
Still shall you find
At end, nought else but thee.
Oh, in what straitened bounds
Of thought and aim –
And even sights and sounds –
Your earthly lot is doomed to stay!

And yet, your smallest whim
By secret grace
To look the simplest flower in the face
Gives an inevitable reflection back,
Not of your own self only,
But of one
Who, having achieved its miracle,
Rests there, and is not gone;
Who still o’er your own darker deeps holds sway
Into whatever shallows you may stray.

Whatever quicksands loom before you yet, –
Indifference, the endeavour to forget,
Whatever truce for which your soul may yearn,
Gives you but smaller room
In which to turn,
Until you reach the haven
Of the tomb.

“The haven?” Count the chances … Is that so?
You are your Universe. Could death’s quick dart
Be aimed at aught less mortal than the heart?
Could body’s end,
Whereto it soon shall go,
Be end of all you mean, and are, my friend?

Ah, when clocks stop, and no-more-time-begins,
May he who gave the flower
Its matchless hour,
And you the power
To win the love that only loving wins,
Have mercy on your miseries and your sins.