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Your dreams rise up upon the brilliance of the stars
As you recline in the evening of your longing
And you imagine for yourself a life of plenty
In the abandonment of sleep

And as you wander naked through the landscape of desire
You know your father to be yourself
And you yearn to know to what god you pray
And in which temple you light the alter with the candles of your poverty

And you are an architect building a city with a pack of cards
You cast away the needle and the hunger of your addiction
And you hold in your hand instead a map of a foreign land
And you long to journey and leave no traces in the sand

And you are listening to the music of the sitar and the sacred chant of monks
In a garden where wind chimes give voice to the secrets of the breeze
As a moon drifts upon an ocean of promises
That you made but never kept

And the bird of paradise rises from your pillow
And envelopes your heart in light
You are a child by a river
With others who know you and you know them

And you wonder how it is you have come back here again
To where your joy is not fleeting
To where your laughter is welcomed
To where you understand the poetry of birds

But you are leaving with a suitcase filled with books
And you are on a train smoking Camels
And you are in a room listening to learned men who profess to know nothing for certain
Yet who are sure of the health of their scepticism

And you are laying on a lawn with a woman
She wants to know you
Her perfume of jasmine mingles with the scent of summer
As the tower clock strikes three

She means what she says
But it can't go on
She doesn't understand you
You are far too reckless

And you are out on an ocean
Your head above the swell
And the icy chill invites you to let go
But you know you can never live with dolphins

And you know there will always be one waiting for you
One who longs to whisper your name in the play of love
One who yearns to learn
The secrets of your heart

And so your dreams rise up upon the brilliance of the stars
As you recline in the arms of union
And you know your lover to be yourself
In the abandonment of need and longing

Flowing, flowing, flowing... I love how this flows, with the gentleness of the words themselves, as well as the images... even when you speak of harsher things, you do it gently. You treat yourself and others the same way, when you speak of them. I loved reading this.

~ Lizzy

Thanks for your appreciation.

It's not so much a matter of life wearing us down, but of wearing us smooth. We are all pebbles upon a cosmic beach.

Bernard

Hi Bernard ~

Have you heard Leonard's comment, made regarding [his/others'] life in the monastery? It's very similar, regarding pebbles and smoothness from interacting with each other. I envisioned a pebbles in a glass jar, but not sure if that was because it's the vehicle he spoke of, or simply the way I imagined it. Ah, the memory .

~ Lizzy

Hi Lizzy,

I wasn't aware of that particular reference you related to me. I spent many, many years down on the coast of Victoria with my family. I would walk the back beaches and dive the rock pools and as a boy would collect all manner of shells and pebbles of various shapes and colours. And it was there I came to understand, or rather get a glimmer of, nature's wondrous and subtle ways. My Dad told me once, "Even the sharpest and most jagged broken bottle would be lathed smooth and rounded by the workings of the ocean."

Bernard

It's some journey you take us on here, Bernard. A journey I too can only hope to follow and find similiar acceptance and peace.

Granty

I really needed to read this today, thank you Bernard; you remind me of youth that I should grasp a hold of more firmly, and pains that I should wash away from readily, not to mention a girl or two I should ask out on a date!
Peace.

Good one Jiminy,
we let this beautiful poem fly by too quickly. Sometimes resurrection is a good way to go! And this poem needed to be looked at again.

And the icy chill invites you to let go
But you know you can never live with dolphins
......
As you recline in the arms of union
And you know your lover to be yourself
In the abandonment of need and longing

Bernard you Mystic

I missed this poem the first time around.

Bernard I cannot even pick out lines. I want to read this again.

Thank you so much for the poems you write and bring here.

Diane