Run

Run run run with me!
Let's see the world
Fresh-eyed each day,
Nothing guiding us on our way,
Showing us all that 
Delights.

Can you value a slug and a lion the same?
Compare the magnificence 
Of dolphin and bluebottle?

Then run with me,
Not away but together;
Know that I will never stop:
The wild mare,
Alive with inspiration,
Sleeps in the wind,
Untameable.

So run with her
Through rain, over mountain,
With sun and snow on your face;
Remember to taste
What life is for:
The knowledge of spirit
Through body.

Let's take hands
And run.

There are Old Sayings and New Ages

My heart speaks to me
In curves, pictures, zen.
It does not remember like the mind,
It simply lives.
Open, it touches all it sees;
Closed, it softly restores;
Always in perfect balance,
Though I may not always
Understand it's odd rhythms -
The times it skips a beat
Or runs away with itself.

There are no words
But those of my heart
And it is boundless,
Its armour lighter now
Than years gone by:
Heavy plate turned to
Nimble leather, a second skin
To clothe me when I need it.

When you feel as light as air
Something is needed to
Keep your feet on the ground:
My heart has an untethered nature
Conscious of its many layers,
So throws down anchors 
From time to time.
But it knows to cast off often,
For, unbound,
It can let go of what it loves,
Trust that leaps of faith
Bring untold riches
That all the positive wishing in the world
Can never hope
To manifest.

The Path

We awaken.
Our minds imagine pain enough
To pull us from deep slumber,
To make our bodies wake
To change
A situation no longer tenable.
There is no clarity
Like that post-storm,
When the wild winds
Are behind you now,
When you can emerge
From cool safe depths
To a surface of waves
Which arrive gently
On the lap of the shore.

The rocks over which you scrambled,
The pools through which you waded
Are still there,
Though no one again will tread
The path you made with your two feet.
The almost-distraction of a peaceful lagoon,
The green stone that shone:
Perhaps no other being will see them,
Certainly not the way you did
On that day,
So here we are,
Left with the story of them now.

And here still, the beautiful shell
You collected,
A reminder to hold
What you learned:
That your way was perfect
Because it was yours;
That you could tread carefully and pause
To cause no harm
And also find joy in risk and swiftness,
In the deep, intuitive knowing
Of where you needed to go
To make a life that was your own.

The Wheat and the Chaff

The ripples of fear
That kept me from landing
Were in anticipation
Of the grief here present
When I arrived.

Expressing truth at every turn
Takes courage
The like of which 
I have never known.

Who I am now
Is not who I was then
Or then or then,
Though I may seem familiar.

The owned words of others in this circle
Give clarity
But outside, so often,
I hear the opinions 
Of those who think they know me,
Who offer with love and kind intention
The story of their own heart,
Telling me it's mine.

I wait.
I listen.
Until I hear my own voice sing,
My own tears weep;
Until I know
It is time for the loss,
That Nothing can prevent it,
Only allow a rebirth
Of Something else
With a flavour of me
Combined with a seed
Which arrived in my hand
When I left the old stem
Behind.

And the dawning joyful chorus
Will not be held back
With cries of too much
Too soon, too early:
The wheat is ripe for new living,
The chaff ash happy to be fuel
For what lies ahead.

I leap......