Clouds, Shaken

comments 23
Poetry

The distance,
receding.
The sky so full
of feathers,
it’s obvious
the gods tore
open the clouds,
shook them out
over the land,
and tossed their
empty skins in a pile
by the river.
We’re back in the Dreamtime.
The cold has come alive,
the sky become an arctic fire,
her sparks fluttering
in a swirling dizzy
of ballerina embers,
and the hawk’s vision is still again,
flooding my skull,
impaling my every thought,
studying my breath,
pressing against my ribs,
scrutinizing my shoe laces,
daring me to question why…
Every mote and speck
of this particle kingdom
has been pierced.
Every feather has been named.
Every being held.
Every silence seen.
He watches from the fence post,
through eyes not for this world,
unperturbed by the
buzzing, swarming frenzy–
Knowing:
there is a way of looking
in which all that is needed
dissolves steadily into view.

23 Comments

    • Thank you, David! Wishing you belated, delightful journeys through the dreamland. I’m pretty sure I can wish this after you go there, and it will still work. Time and grace have a crazy joint venture thing going they don’t tell anyone about until it’s too late. 🙂

      Michael

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    • Thank you so much, Ellen. I’m so glad you resonate with the feelings inside of the words here, and that they inspire connection. Peace–

      Michael

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  1. Thanks Michael for this mysterious perception of the world, oddly different – almost the familiarity we recognise, but not quite… edible shoe laces? All that is needed, dissolves steadily into view.

    Liked by 2 people

    • Ha! You got me on that one, Tiramit. I wasn’t thinking edible shoe laces, just thinking: what would that piercing vision make of shoe laces? Maybe have a real admiration for that being who can catch and dry worms, and dry them into leather, and work them into their protective garb…? Sometimes, abstract images just pop in and I feel compelled to give them a try. It’s like running a trick play. 🙂

      Michael

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      • Interesting how it’s the images themselves that appear and their form is shaped by words. I was thinking of a kitten I had once who was fascinated with my laces when I put on my shoes…

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        • Yes, good one! So much creativity starts with a hunch. An image latches onto it and takes life, then words appear like those flocks of birds in a cartoon that all pick up a thread and carry a thing away… Makes me wonder about this world… If it all began with nothing more than a really, really good feeling, and it went on from there… 🙂

          Michael

          Liked by 1 person

  2. Hi Michael,

    I loved those closing lines of yours.

    .”..Knowing:
    there is a way of looking
    in which all that is needed
    dissolves steadily into view.”

    And there exists this special way of looking, there is, as another part of knowing, that special way of hearing Both such looking and hearing creates the imagery of having been gotten.Getting something in this way holds great power…..

    Shakti

    Liked by 1 person

    • Yes, indeed. Thank you for the reminder of the hearing. I like the way you write that receiving something in this way holds great power. I would agree, just as you have materialized from the electronic mist!

      Peace
      Michael

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  3. There’s something in what you say,’consciousness veils itself from itself by pretending to limit itself to a separate entity and then forgets that it is pretending.’ (Rupert Spira)
    Trying to remember something in a book by Marquez about a lake or a sea that was no longer there, because many years before a huge flock of long-legged birds descended on the lake. Then there was this sudden spell of freezing weather and when the birds flew away, they took the lake with them. Do you happen to know which book this appears in?

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    • Tiramit, I’m not sure where that story comes from, though it sounds vaguely familiar. Sounds wonderful, actually. A perfectly reasonable response to a spell of freezing weather in a world of magic and possibility…

      Michael

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