Mindful by Mary Oliver

Every day
I see or hear
that more or less
kills me
with delight,
that leaves me
like a needle
in the haystack
of light.
It was what I was born for –
to look, to listen,
to lose myself
inside this soft world –
to instruct myself
over and over
in joy,
and acclamation.
Nor am I talking
about the exceptional,
the fearful, the dreadful,
the very extravagant –
but of the ordinary,
the common, the very drab,
the daily presentations.
Oh, good scholar,
I say to myself,
how can you help
but grow wise
with such teachings
as these –
the untrimmable light
of the world,
the ocean’s shine,
the prayers that are made
out of grass?


Winter Solstice by Gary Young

Birds travel toward the horizon
at a distance which makes them
indistinguishable. We only know
that they seem to be leaving the earth.
The glassy bulbs of the Iris have worked their way
to the surface of the damp soil,
and the roots of the pine tree
rest on the ground like arthritic knuckles,
clumsey, useless, having given up
on everything, even themselves.
I watch the rain fall after a year of drought,
and it settles into the runoff. My yard
is a delta of tiny rivers, and the spirit,
which must be like water, flows quietly away.

Heaven by Rupert Brooke

Fish (fly-replete, in depth of June,
Dawdling away their wat’ry noon)
Ponder deep wisdom, dark or clear,
Each secret fishy hope or fear.
Fish say, they have their Stream and Pond;
But is there anything Beyond?
This life cannot be All, they swear,
For how unpleasant, if it were!
One may not doubt that, somehow,
Good Shall come of Water and of Mud;
And, sure, the reverent eye must see
A Purpose in Liquidity.
We darkly know, by Faith we cry,
The future is not Wholly Dry.
Mud unto mud!–Death eddies near–
Not here the appointed End, not here!
But somewhere, beyond Space and Time,
Is wetter water, slimier slime!
And there (they trust) there swimmeth One
Who swam ere rivers were begun,
Immense, of fishy form and mind,
Squamous, omnipotent, and kind;
And under that Almighty Fin,
The littlest fish may enter in.
Oh! never fly conceals a hook,
Fish say, in the Eternal Brook,
But more than mundane weeds are there,
And mud, celestially fair;
Fat caterpillars drift around,
And Paradisal grubs are found;
Unfading moths, immortal flies,
And the worm that never dies.
And in that Heaven of all their wish,
There shall be no more land, say fish.

To Esclarmondo by Grace Fallow Norton

If thou couldst walk alone with thought,
Alone within the day,
Between thy soul and Heaven naught
To shadow thy white way :

If thou couldst walk alone with dreams,
Without the cloud of me —
My sudden storms, my fitful gleams,
My poor reality:

If thou couldst walk alone with light —
Would then thine eyes see true?
And were there thus a higher height
For thee, a rapture new ?

Cloud, I would melt in willing tears,
Storm, I would gladly go
Forth from thy peace through all the years,
If thou wert safer so.

But ah, who walks with thought alone?
Who is there knows but light ?
And who with naught but dreams has grown
To that desired height ?

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

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

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.