Piercing the Blue Veil

Ideas and eclipses,

Stories of suicide;

The host body fading;

Newspapers publishing letters.

Feuds, floods and storms

Colour the orange sun as it dims.

The ungraspable moon at twilight;

Wild strawberries still growing.

Unwelcome phone calls;

Pain persisting;

People kind and distant.

The cool, caressing touch of the summer breeze casting seeds.

Stitch another line in the death mask;

a climax looming.

No short cuts.

Doom aboard the ferris wheel,

(top wrung wouldn’t you know!)?

Sirens call for the end of day

Stealing the light

From the way ahead,

Away from the berry patch.

In a time where only lurkers grope

Gathering to chant the names of strangers

In long shadows, at a place to wear helmets;

Failing to lift the gravity of it all.

All in a day where mysteries deepen

And there barefoot on the swinging span

He heard the calling of his name,

pierce the veil of blue fire, knowing then every chip

of his magic bridge was perfectly engraved.

Letters Heavenward

Dear Future Self:

Avoid banks and borrowing. Keep the flames of curiosity well stoked. Chase down your education daily. Plunge into that pool of knowing, swim in the love there. Art and healthfulness are cousins; keep them dear. Experience the joy of charitableness while continuity of meaning unravels its mysteries.

Now find that little Revolution Blueprint book in the library and know then that your mission in life is to circulate it. By then, you will cotton to the fact that you wrote it about 20 years ago and that your Righteous Teacher will need you close.

Got it? Good. That's a good boy.

Now...     

Dear God:

Yeah, yeah, you’re busy. But make time. This is important. This is my wish list for my next life. Got a pen?

First off: I want means and wherewithal. I’ve done the poverty gig. (Thanks for that.) Next, you will not burden me with any physical handicaps. (Karma is on my side as you bloody well know.) I will be born in a civilized country with proximity to the Righteous Teacher, for whose words you will endow me with a ferocious appetite to hear; a thirst for knowledge where my undying curiosity may be quenched. I will require inspired teachers at school who will guide me into the House of Knowing where I may abide with charitableness. That’s all.

Oh. And what do you get? You get me – who will rescue this fading planet from the onslaught of radical climate change. And you know I’m good for it. After all: I wrote the book.

The Magic Bridge

A man needs to complete his manhood… in an environment to which he is already accustomed.

An earth.

And in a form with which is intimately acquainted.

His body.

One life span, or many, may not be enough.

So once more he approaches the magic bridge but before he reaches that threshold he takes a moment to bathe and pray in a warm water pool. As he nears the bridge, now refreshed despite his years,  he begins to hear beautiful sounds emitting form the area of the bridge and see its floor shimmer. His bare feet touch the surface of the bridge as he now walks across its  arch. It is then he notices that the shimmering is caused by mosaics embedded into the bridge floor.  Each chip he sees is relevant to him capturing as it does a moment in his life, a meaningful moment; an experience which contributed to his growth. He laughs upon finding these puzzle pieces, each inscribed with a secret only he now can demystify. He understands why now each occasion transpired. 

And ahead of him now on the downward incline of this magical bridge are blank mosaic chips, nicely coloured but awaiting, as it were, to be inscribed by those memories his new form and life experience will contribute.  

He knows now continuity of meaning as he crosses the bridge and after he pierces the veil of fire he will sing, laugh, dance, and run again; even perhaps to love. Perhaps upon his next crossing his humanity will be full.  

Under a familiar sun. 

As he has been equipped all over again to know God. 

What a relief. Ring up another blessing.