The Beach He ran delighted to the silver streak Of water bounded by glistening sand. A first unique response to the saga Of sand, sea, sky and seagulls cry. Nature smiled and he embraced her as only children can, With exuberance born of one who is yet free. We smiled and watched as he Explored the texture of the water and the Feel of wet sand clinging to his skin Where were you? Physically present Yet, emotionally absent, withdrawn, locked out. Can she haunt you even to the silver line of tide? To Neptune’s boundary? Is her magic still pushing you Towards that silver fence? Unaware of the mystical force lines Criss crossing on the beach we piled the Sand around his feet, anchoring the goat In his element of earth. You were floating away with ancient ghosts Buffeted by wet jets of airy thought. Did you forget your cloak of protection? Or, is it rent asunder by her onslaught Hanging round you in tatters Like the battered kelp on the tide line Shreds of Neptune’s mistletoe Waiting for his next bride. To whom do the motherless turn for comfort? To whom do the fatherless turn for strength? To whom do the three year olds turn for play? To Mother Nature on that first ecstatic visit to the beach To abandon himself to her and just absorb her beauty Clinging like the sticky grains between his toes. To whoever is there in trust, With whatever is needed. Should, must, need, ought These words of power bind, leave no option but to obey. Could, might, wish, love These words of power open doors and present choices. But choices call for courage, much easier to slavishly obey and blame. Then the tide turned and slowly Neptune came to reclaim his own To cover every track, depression, every mark we left To erase it from the beach and leave it clean unblemished It takes courage to be free, To erase the power of history To accept Neptune’s clean hoovered beach. Don Juan’s man of power has no personal history But it does not mean being alone Anymore than the three year old is alone on the beach. He trusts and she responds, together they play and we watch. Nature abhors a vacuum and As soon as empty space appears the mind floods in Like a spring bore, filling it with anything historical it can. The mind cannot know the future, only spirit can. So always past images of regret get played With dire warnings of the famine to return. Why so? Why cannot compassion come? Positive particles of hope shooting out in all directions Why raise the shield of doubt? In case they bear a cost you cannot pay? You can be anything you dream of, But dreams come not from the mind, Only ghosts come from that airy domain. Dreams come from naked children splashing in the pool, No fear of trident wielding monsters here. Confidence means with trust, As the bond of one plus one makes three The basic triangle of eternity.
Posted on: Thu, 11 Sep 2014 20:17:18 +0000
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