Buffeted by the breeze,
Stars bob upon the trees.
Rose tinted petals fall,
Flittering to rest; small.
Featherlight on the ground;
Confetti all around.
Moving between worlds
I find it too easy for my inner vision to be clouded by every day concerns and responsibilities; my physical life often weighs heavy on my heart. The physical world is also provides the key for my sprit to be unshackled and to regain flight.
Knowing the cues
The sound of the breeze through trees; the swish of the sea on the shore; the scent of jasmine; or the sight of a gently flickering candle help me to make an inner connection, however this doesn’t always do the trick.
The next step
I have written posts about the challenge of capturing as many ideas as possible when my mind is abuzz with inspiration. When the opposite is true, it is like casting a fine mesh net into a sluggish sea. Most of the brainwaves flow through and only a small number of seeds of inspiration are collected.
As with all fishing, patience and taking a break can help achieve a result. As my thoughts spark, connect and add substance to the seeds, they often prove to be a catalyst for something worthwhile. Even if I don’t succeed, beating myself up about it isn’t productive and there will usually be an opportunity to have another go.
More Precious than Gold
A breath or breeze bringing music, a kiss;
It’s cool, it’s hot, it’s crisp, it’s warm, it’s cold;
Carrying Winter’s chill and Summer’s bliss.
What wealth would be reaped if twas caught and sold!
Fair sylphs ‘twined within the east wind do whirl
With graceful ease o’er rainbows wide they dance;
Through fluffy clouds on thermals fast they twirl,
They soar. Are they in danger? Not a chance!
Cannot be seen; doesn’t mean it’s not there,
Lots’ around yet far more precious than gold.
Endangered? For now there’s enough to share.
Can be cut with a knife; just try to hold!
During darkness of night and light of day,
Ideas and thoughts are shed just like feathers
Free as sweet incense floating up, away.
Not one’s intent? Best to attach tethers!
Anger can be heard as clear as a bell,
The strife of life cannot be ignored.
How can we tell if it’s heaven or hell?
Listen for the hoard or the lord with sword.
Wide eyed fairy’s sigh heard from on high,
Warn those below “trouble comes, be away”,
Shy souls now cry out in fright as they fly,
“No good will come; now go, leave the affray”.
Strained moments pass the tension is immense,
Time to think is bought and conflict caught short,
Need not choose from flight or fight, they’ve seen sense,
Once again destructive thought’ve come to naught.
(c) Robert Jones 2013, All Rights Reserved