Lucid Dream of Masquerade

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My fears lay awake in a lucid dream, the compass for where I stand.  Had I the wisdom to depart from this place I don’t belong, the grace wisdom brings ought be present in me, and I would never have found myself here.  I did not have that wisdom, nor the grace it affords.  My departure here will be clumsy therefore,  and things large and small may get broken.  But it is no less true, the imperative that I must leave.

I found myself on stage.  A dim spotlight shining on me.  The opening of Khachaturian’s Masquerade, I can hear  – and the seats are close to full.   I wish so much that I could dance myself away unnoticed.  But  I’ll loudly stumble off – conspicuously echoed, gruelingly observed.  A snickering as a tcht tcht tcht, of tongues in heads moving side to side, and the tightening around my heart that follows.

With a ring the music of a waltz begins – Dancers leaping into strides that rise and fall.  I will disappear, restore in Nocturne… as the suite spectacularly plays on.  In Capriccio  I’ll turn back to see why the music sighs – the breathlessness of beauty where grace belongs.  I’ll find myself seated among glorious applause,  jeweled ovation, my hands in adamant clapping – Fandango, rising as one of the all.

I shall never shake my head, though – with a tcht tcht tcht sound for the fool standing the stage alone.  I know of his courage, and the onlookers shame – in the surety of ushered velvet seating, house lights, and the numbers only in which,  feigned strength is played.

Image Artist ~ Elnur Amikishiyev  

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The Calling

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 The Calling

I glanced to the wind blowing past me today

My Spirit swept by like a stranger, though looking

Told a story and touched the earth

Calling dead leaves and memories to the ground

 

Crisp and crackling, dancing across stones

Gathered and placed to mark a garden

It’s bringing me home I can hear the wind say

Whistling between rocks that hold no green

 

I stand and wait for the sound of my feet

The purpose once echoed in my stride

Hearing my name from the calling of a distance

Laughter welling up with my leaping to the gate

 

Running to the sound of my name in a whisper

Calling me further to source and away

I thought it another, I heard among the leaves

That spun and danced around my dreams

 

Tears welled up in my heart and eyes

Clouding my vision and honing my sight

To see I had waited for a dream not my own

But the calling was to me, by a chariot of wind

 

The footsteps I heard were my own, in a vision

Their echoes, my calling and departure

I held us here, which kept you away

Hearing but not listening who called

 

I thought it a stranger among my fears and hope

In a dormant and untended garden

Still the love real, and the tears rejoicing

Lifting to the sky, smiling goodbye and good journey

 

I reached to the wind blowing past me today

My Spirit stood by like a friend, long waiting

To cast a story and touch the sky

Calling my soul to mindful waking

 

~

 

  Image Artist  ~  Moreen Blackthorne

Among Us

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Of those who admire me, who hold me in the highest regard and esteem

If only they knew my failures, my doubt, my fears, and the hurt my ignorance has conveyed

They might not look to me for so much, with such certainty or so often

Of those who disdain me, who hold me beneath their contempt for themselves

If only they knew the goodness I have done, the compassion I have shown, and the wisdom I have imparted

They might not say so many disparaging things, so assuredly or so often

Those who know self, are immune to this diametric.  They see the whole of me within the whole of them….and I, the whole of them within me.

They see their own privilege, keeping them from my failures – as I see my own having kept me from theirs

These, who work as Masters-  Neither avoiding the pain of truth, nor fearing the truth of pain.  I find peace in myself among them, and they find peace in them with me.

No refuge, no shelter is ever needed when the sun burns through the fog of human ruth and shame.

There go I, but for so many graces – There go you, but for so many of the same

And this is when the laughter calls-  We know we leave nothing behind.  The future, living in this moment and in everything we hold dear.  And our past, our capacity to embrace it- In certainty and with freedom from fear