Lightly Child, Lightly

So beautiful… 🙂

light.png

I cannot tell you
how the light comes.

What I know
is that it is more ancient
than imagining.

That it travels
across an astounding expanse
to reach us.

That it loves
searching out
what is hidden
what is lost
what is forgotten
or in peril
or in pain.

That it has a fondness
for the body
for finding its way
toward flesh
for tracing the edges
of form
for shining forth
through the eye,
the hand,
the heart.

I cannot tell you
how the light comes,
but that it does.
That it will.
That it works its way
into the deepest dark
that enfolds you,
though it may seem
long ages in coming
or arrive in a shape
you did not foresee.

And so
may we this day
turn ourselves toward it.
May we lift our faces
to let it find us.
May we bend our bodies
to follow…

View original post 92 more words

Advertisements

Compassion hurts…

“Compassion hurts. When you feel connected to everything, you also feel responsible for everything. And you cannot turn away. Your destiny is bound with the destiny of others. You must learn to either carry the Universe or be crushed by it. You must grow strong enough to love the world, yet empty enough to sit down at the same table with its worst horrors.” ~ Andrew Boyd

The River

“I am only a ferryman and it is my task to take people across this river. I
have taken thousands of people across and to all of them my river has
been nothing but a hindrance on their journey. They have travelled for
money and business, to weddings and on pilgrimages; the river has
been in their way and the ferryman was there to take them quickly
across the obstacle. However, amongst the thousands there have been
a few, four or five, to whom the river was not an obstacle. They have
heard its voice and listened to it, and the river has become holy to them,
as it has to me. “Have you also learned that secret from the river; that
there is no such thing as time?” That the river is everywhere at the same
time, at the source and at the mouth, at the waterfall, at the ferry, at the
current, in the ocean and in the mountains, everywhere and that the
present only exists for it, not the shadow of the past nor the shadow of
the future.”

 

~ From ‘Siddhartha’ by Herman Hesse

 

 

The Journey

Above the mountains
the geese turn into
the light again

Painting their
black silhouettes
on an open sky.

Sometimes everything
has to be
inscribed across
the heavens

so you can find
the one line
already written
inside you.

Sometimes it takes
a great sky
to find that

first, bright
and indescribable
wedge of freedom
in your own heart.

Sometimes with
the bones of the black
sticks left when the fire
has gone out

someone has written
something new
in the ashes of your life.

You are not leaving.
Even as the light fades quickly now,
you are arriving.

~~ David Whyte ~~