Life colours my desires with unfulfilled expectations,
Resulting in struggle. I indulge my cravings, unaware
That progress lies in the skirmishes I encounter.
As such I die daily, in an abyss of loneliness and fear.
I’m drawn to sad songs; constantly making
Beds for my despair. Yet the same dance
Of Light, concealed within the darkness of my
Pandora’s box, becomes the inner Alchemist
At the gates of my ‘Open Sesame’ of treasures.
She weaves thorns for my sorrows, to salute my roses
Of Joy; carries me in my shadows --this ‘foggy’ conception
Of Truth. Walks with me, into the lustre of moonlit rays.
Sunset eventually fades, but doesn’t Andromeda swallows
The night with grandeur? My mind’s red-hot with worries,
Even as the gleamer of stars, whispers a twinkle in the Heart.
Thorns are necessary to protect roses
I affect Mother Gaia, by the vibrations that I offer to her.
To the drunk, a man in trance appears inebriated, yet to
The Saint, he’s a Lover, intoxicated by the Bliss of Paradise.
The mother in labour knows only pain, until she holds
In her arms, the most beautiful miracle of creation: life.
A thorn is the harbinger of wisdom; adversity a
Messenger of Light. Twilight may welcome my
Loneliness, yet dawn heralds an awakening sunrise.
We are all unique dreams of Love. Yet struggle
Is necessary. The child encounters strive in crawling
And walking … is burdened by wet nappies and pooh.
It hungers for mother’s milk, yet lives spontaneously,
Trusting the sacrament of the present moment.
In my quest for meaning, I face many challenges,
For without shadows, there’s no perception of Light.
Without the hills there will be no valleys. Pleasure
Is followed by pain, and I treasure happiness,
Only because I have experienced sorrows.
I am an Emperor, lost in a sea of illusions. Love, in
Its mercy, gives me choices, even while holding on to
The cords of my limited Freedom. I stray, like lost sheep,
Into the ways of ignorance, until She reins me in, so I
Can swim or bathe, in the mansions of effulgent Light.
Never give up! We are neither shrouds nor graves,
Just as the Light becomes brighter when the day dawns.
There is a stream of living water, which satiates the
Agony of longing and I must drink, for my Spirit will
Never die. The fire of the Heart cannot be quelled and the
Intensity for inner fulfilment, still burns brightly in the soul.
Hope, the song-bird of perennial freedom, ever whispers
Her supernal songs, heralding sweet visions of tomorrows,
Constantly and patiently pruning the weeds of my inner
Garden, so that my fuchsias and petunias, may shine with glory.
Life, for me, is full of challenges, yet as the rain of Mercy
Permeates the soil, so too, I will eventually get a bumper
Harvest. The dark night of the soul is only troubled by brittle
Chains, awaiting the Messenger of Delight, to untie its fetters.
So, come, my friends, let us sing with the song-bird of the
Eternal. Life’s struggles are only snowflakes, blowing in the
Wind. The wise see the blossoming flowers of Jerusalem, even
When the shadows are dense. Give me your hands, O bevy of
Phoenix’s, Love is eagerly awaiting, to welcome us Home.
-Manatita, The Lantern Carrier. 28th October, 2018.
© 2022 manatita44