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Posts Tagged ‘sacred poetry’

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Gentle immensities:  bark-worn, branch- torn,  grey-green friars,
tell me in whispers to what one aspires.

No fear, nor pretense, without want or bold opinion,
the maple giants speak of Knowing and Dominion.

” But humble moments –  fleeting filaments of time and space,
we reach for the Sun, our eternal face.

The All runs in our veins as we move unmoved, through storms, and cuts, falls and cold,
Knowing that the end is but the beginning, and the new rests on the old.”

Wisdom rises in simple Presence that calls on me to know,
that only Angels see tomorrows and which way the winds will blow.

© The Harried Mystic, 2013. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited.

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A forgotten well, all veiled in vine,
Speaks in silence of ancient wine;

While nature’s cloak and a good night’s soak,
Turn back the bruise of time.

And the solitary daisy, yellow- sparkling in the Sun,
Whispers sweetly to the stone: ” We’ve only just begun!”

© The Harried Mystic, 2013. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited.

 

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Glow warm and time-worn amber paints my horizon
While foraging squirrels and song-stirred birds go about appointed chores.

And Young boys play in the streets unaware of the gathering life,
Nor of my hope-drenched fears.

All the buzzing hive of rolling life plays on,
While the heartbeat of a silent single star beats inside the emptiness.

Glad-sad veneer of years marches ever onward,
As I await the blue-grey sheet of night to embrace all my dreaming.

© The Harried Mystic, 2013. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited.

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The cold water in the clear glass
invites me to drink and be refreshed.

It asks for nothing and gives everything and exists to become me.

I lift the glass and my thirst is quenched
before reaching my lips.

This is fitting as I was once cold water and I was once clear glass.

( a poem inspired by the Persian poet, Hafiz).

© Brother Anthony Thomas and The Harried Mystic, 2009. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited.

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