Healing · Original Digital Art · Poem · Poetry

Pray for the One

Pray for the One

 

Good deeds are acts of prayer

To the light, our vanguard.

This is the time when

Acts of love are needed

To fortify the One of which

We all are,

One Unity of Light,

Strengthened by deeds for

Others and Mother Earth.

 

So pray. Pray for the One,

Pray by loving the One,

All people, all birds, all animals,

All trees, all flowers, all mountains,

All seas, all oceans, all lakes,

All of Mother Earth,

With acts of true love,

Good deeds,

For they are of valor.

They are of Unity;

We are One.

 

So pray. Pray for the One,

Pray by loving the One.

These prayers are not dogma.

Love is the conduit and mortar,

Holding us in the Light,

Building community and harmony

To fight the darkness,

Which is dividing us

Into our Shadows.

Dogma divides;

Love melts us into

Each other and all of nature.

 

So pray. Pray for the One,

Pray by loving the One.

Our Mother creates our substance;

Our Father, our spirit.

Prayer marries heart and soul.

Spirit meets substance in

Actions of love.

 

So pray. Pray for the One,

Pray by loving the One.

Darkness persists, yet

Balance restores.

Fear divides the One

Into fragments.

This is hell,

Broken hearts,

Unbound to love,

Duality,

The separation of souls from

The One.

 

So pray. Pray for the One,

Pray by loving the One.

Dreams of Self are illusions.

Me and you, the great lie.

This division of the One

Causes suffering and battles.

Heed not the codes

That spread this lie.

This is the time

To drop centric illusions of

Self above all.

This dream is a nightmare,

Breeding the Shadows that

Haunt our days.

 

So pray. Pray for the One,

Pray by loving the One.

Greed torments Mother Earth

And splits souls like atoms,

Ready for holocaust.

Humanity is vulnerable to Shadows;

Earth is rotting in the lies.

This mulch will bear famine.

 

So pray. Pray for the One,

Pray by loving the One.

Our loneliness breeds fear,

The brother of war.

This is not what truth decrees.

Actions of love unite All

In harmony with creation,

For love creates; fear destroys.

It wants no dissent.

Its lies appear as truth, but

If Shadows appear, so do lies,

Dressed in fine lines and bold colors

And dancing in Fool’s Gold.

This mining leaves Earth barren.

 

So pray. Pray for the One,

Pray by loving the One.

We swoon to the dance of Lies’ amenities

And bargain away our divinity

For short-lived glee:

Out for Me, not for We.

Prayers for bonuses go unheard.

Prayers with promises turn to mist.

Prayers of love double in bounty

And multiply the Flower of Life.

 

So pray. Pray for the One,

Pray by loving the One.

Evil is, no doubt.

It nurtures its own for its prize.

It’s beguiling and deceptive, for

It’s guilty of its tales of others.

Evil is the perpetrator, the trickster.

We are misguided and complicit

In our ignorance and swayed by delusions.

 

So pray. Pray for the One,

Pray by loving the One.

Pray with acts of love

For those pointed out

And cast into the abyss.

Pray for your city,

Pray for your state,

Pray for your country,

Pray for your world

With acts of love.

Let us raise our hands to the Light,

To the Divine,

And act in Grace with all,

For all.

 

So pray. Pray for the One,

Pray by loving the One.

Pray until you feel the pain

Of a dying bird.

Pray until you feel the joy

Of the birth of a rose.

When you hear

The prayers of trees,

You will know that

We are One.

 

Copyright  © 2018/01/19 Barbara Harris Leonhard @extraordinarysunshineweaver.wordpress.com

 

Image: “Goddess’ Gifts” digital art ©Martha Harris See Martha’s Artistic Flarings @artisticflarings.blog

 

Poem · Poetry

The Sea Tree

The Sea Tree

With trepidation, I set off

Through the fierce waves

That clash around my feet.

I feel uprooted from

Such a long journey.

 

The salty broth sweeps me

Along the green wetness;

Misty are my memories

Tossed behind

Like dead leaves,

Those other days.

 

And now I am gone

Not as I began, deceiving truth,

But seeking it

And fearing it, hidden there

In the darkness of a heavy shadow

Of an old tree along the shore

Of this vast sea,

Somewhere,

The shore that holds me.

 

To turn back would be a lie;

To claim what once was

As what is, or

To claim that what is not

Is truth,

Is a lie.

I hate it.

 

My limbs feel long and strong

Yet worn, like bark torn and shredded.

On this sea journey.

I run to what?

The shore?

A dot it is, a bigger dot,

A continent.

I see it, I seek it,

I fear it, for

There awaits the darkness,

Unnamed yet vivid

With some gloomy promise.

A promise? A fate?

It waits.

 

I see it now, but

Not before the journey

Did I care

What fate is or was or

Will be.

I was a child then,

Bathing in a vast

Bubble bath sea,

My ship of ivory

Floating with me.

I carved it myself.

The best shape, broad, Spartan,

Ominous.

 

I had many battles that conquered

The foam and dirt

On my dusty skin, but I

Was never really clean afterwards.

I did not care to be clean.

No warrior dies without blood

In his nails.

I only cared

That my ship floated

And did not melt

In the hot water.

 

It is all a dream now,

Those times,

Those sunny times

Under the mint-green leaves

Of summer light.

But even then,

There were shadows.

 

To the shadows I was drawn

By humming bees

And chanting crickets.

I loved the sounds,

Sounds like no other.

I was there.

And there I went for good deeds,

I thought,

To step on the tiny ants,

Black, and shiny, and ugly,

To make them crawl

Towards my impending foot.

I loved the shadows for that

And the belief my sport was

Redeeming.

I was Someone

To contend with.

 

The sun seems hot now,

As it did then.

To wait for the deep shade

On that looming shore.

The waves sway me

To that beach of tall trees

And hidden trees

In a deeper, thicker, blacker heart,

To myself.

 

It is still there

I can see it now,

Black and still.

 

Always black is my mind

Inside, and deep is

The stillness within.

But it stirs with the shore noises.

Deeper and deeper it stirs,

Warning me, yet

Engulfing me and twisting me

As the sea is.

Away from the sunlit fields

And trees that were once

In the meadow of life,

A dream in time.

 

It is all a dream.

So deeply I dream in the blackness,

A dream that is a dream –

I hope is a dream –

But it stirs so real now,

As real as the chanting crickets.

And so fearful

But so inevitable,

It stirs with the beat of my heart –

The dream, the sound,

The truth of it.

It stirs.

 

I am alone, yes.

I should be alone,

And the shore is near.

I feel old;

I feel as old as life is.

I feel I want the shore

To be under my feet,

To be my roots.

 

And here it is.

The waves have slapped me

Onto the shore.

I look for the ship,

But it is gone.

I think when I see

That thick, humming veil of blackness,

Of my times in the meadow

When I crossed the shady paths

And killed

Those tiny creatures,

Those black, helpless creatures.

I stepped on them and squashed

Those tiny lives.

Oh the horror I would feel now

If I had killed the chanting crickets,

As well!

 

Deep into the darkness, I walk

From the shade to the darkest deep;

The beat of my heart stops

As the sea roar never will.

 

Commentary

This poem was written years ago in response to Heart of Darkness. This poem can be applied not only to Marlow and Kurtz but to all humanity because all of us confront that final darkness, the death of our ego, and have to come to terms with our deeds. The sea in this poem is life beginning and ending for this man, and yet, it is never ending.

The image of the tree is the man who is growing from an innocent boy, to an imperialistic youth, to an old man, who is facing truth. The shore holds the enchantment of evil, the seducer, and of the inevitability of a long-awaited death. The death is not just physical but spiritual with the realization that violence and domination are not justified. The speaker knows what awaits him and surrenders.

The root of any suffering is ego, which is the Shadow Companion that puts this man on a pedestal and deceives him into thinking that power and self-esteem are gained by oppression and brutality.  Facing this shoreline, the confronts his ego and must come to terms with his life choices. In this sense, his death brings anguish and grief, not salvation.

Copyright © 2018/02/12 Barbara Harris Leonhard @extraordinarysunshineweaver.wordpress.com

Image: “DeepRoots” digital art ©Martha Harris See Martha’s Artistic Flarings @artisticflarings.blog