from ANAMNESIS - the remembering of soul

Traveller: stop a moment.
It is time to stop time, to step inside.
Come into this house of quiet
and let it take your mind. Can you ?
The hardest thing. To stop thinking.
So you can start really seeing
and enter the silent mind
that waits in the stillness, and your breathing.

Can you sit still ? Can you let
everything be around you?
Then you will find new eyes
and the rose in your heart will open.
Then you will know what is true
infinitely made for you, in each moment;
this dew drop, this dayís pearl
this grit irritating deep in your being
where everything is reflected to you.

Traveller, who are you? Under your name
your occupation and your clothes
you are formless consciousness living in time
with a strange disposition to love.
Dear naked soul, come home.

There is a beauty we live for
that never leaves us
however we may abandon it
in careless indifference
faithless, ignorant

and in the shield that encases our hearts
cynical, street-and-worldly wordy wise

But it breaks in: we long for it
in its eros of images - and it streams out
in that wailing saxaphone, in a violin
rising exquisitely pained...

and it is all there is
in your face, freed to itself
with its glow like gold
to bring us back to what we know
inside our skin
where the beauty within
echoes to its own

being the only true healing

here, and as far as the stars reach
into the other worlds.

What is the gift of your life ?

Beyond naming, an utterance
in your throatís depth, your soulís
intention to liveó

Can you recall it ?
You sit in meditation, surrounded by stars.

What are you living for ?
There is an answer so personal
so passionate, beyond all conceiving
in your innermost coding -
that your secret may die with you,
but not before youíve had the chance
to witness its luminous traces.

And she, he is your answer
that other one nearest of all within
who shines in you like an icon, a sun.

What else is there ? The spiral climb
hearing your name called through the mist,
ever-stretched towards your blue potential
true selfís surrender, that is the only way home.

Do you remember what we did
in those desperate times
when we met?

I would scratch a small circle in the dust
and you would add another, overlapping
and in that simple ritual moment
heaven and earth were reconciled again.

Itís a secret we seem to have forgotten:
one thing alone can never be the truth,
it takes two - it takes opposition -
but only when two are brought together
and blended, can there be resolution
at the unforeseen higher, holy place.

Sacred sex, and union between nations
tortured by being held apart
in the agony of fundamental righteousness.
While, as only God knows,
when I surrender to you, as you do to me
even a little, then true light returns -
born out if its shadow, glimmering, gold.

What does it really mean
to be free in your body ?

To stand authentically,
to move, only moved from within
to let the music be you.

Itís like true love - discovered,
rising in bubbles of cells
like blood, electric
with their own purpose
from their all seeing sense...
in the darkness of transparent flesh.

For every gesture we make
to be from this within
is at last to stand on hallowed ground

in the fine gravity of all we can utter
in a language that transcends our origin

becoming the Word that was the beginning
when all we are was breathed into being;

only now, we may live to see it.

ĎDo thisí, he said
Ďin memory of meí
All it is, and all itís been

to remember who you
really are within
that he gave his life for
and his name

that is our name too
from the stars: Christos

And gave it as no one had
with a love that had never been
which is still about to be

Do this in memory of me

All I am and all I have
is yours, that passionate surrender
for all lovers, for all time
and a bright inexplicable ghost
transubstantiating anywhere

that is our resurrection
still saying what is ours to say
and be, in all our centres: I am here.

written as poet-in-residence at St Jamesí Church, Piccadilly, London (2005-6)

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