Poem · Poetry

The Timeless Now

The Timeless Now

May you trust and be

In the present moment, but

When is the Now?

Each second shades to the past.

Each second greets the next!

When is the Now?

Now is the space between

Then and Next.

The stillness between each breath.

Elusive, and yet, luminous.

Not Today.

Not This Week.

Not This Year.

It’s Now,

This very moment

In a space of time,

The minute space between

Then and Next,

Just a bit of time that spans

The space between suns,

So vast it takes millennia to explore.

The space of no breath between

Time expanding and contracting,

Pulling universes together

And apart as

The tides of time,

The space where heart resides

Now and Forever, for

Ever is a vast space of time.

May you find that space

Of abundant stillness

Between Then and Next,

The Timeless Now,

And be reborn to breath.

Copyright©2018/03/28 Barbara Harris Leonhard @extraordinarysunshineweaver.wordpress.com

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

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Audio · Poem · Poetry

It is My Soul!

The candle light

From the stained glass lamp

Reflected on the walls

Like splashes of stars

Is the lantern to my heart:

It is my Soul.

My Soul is splintering light

Splashed on the shadows of my heart,

The Beacon for my Soul

As the light draws night.

My Soul was once a fading candle

Dripping wax on my heart

And crying out to be lit.

As I light my Soul,

The hues of night

Brighten into day.

What is this dawn?

It is my Soul!

The colors of my Soul

Are hues of purple, blue, and red:

All shades of white,

All shades of black,

All shades of shades.

Without this light,

Where can I go?

‘Where you end is

Where you start.’

Fear, my guide no more;

No rowing on restless waves

Of tears that drown my heart.

Anger set the sail once ago,

But she has met a higher power:

It is my Soul!

There is no map to show me where to go.

But there’s a lamp to light my way:

It is my Soul!

And angels, if you are there,

Please tell me so.

Without this light,

Where can I go?

‘Where you end is

Where you start.’

I’ve never been alone

Though I have felt so,

Letting go my Soul.

And all my grief

Was from this point.

As I denied myself

For others’ sake.

So begins my journey

Out of harm and pain

To live and laugh again.

My Soul, my friend,

So long forgotten,

Now awakened

To the sound of my heart rising

Like the sun

On a crisp morning,

Ready to sail the heavens

On waves of heat,

Evaporating grief

And bitter dreams

From that long, dark night

Of running

From my Soul.

          This spirit song represents the turmoil we often feel as we struggle to find our way to the divine. We must make the choice to affirm our Spirit and invoke it to deliver us to the truth: that by seeking the divine, we find ourselves.

Copyright © 2017 Barbara Harris Leonhard

Image: http://karenxavsphotography.blogspot.com/2011/07/candle-light.html

 

 

 

 

Audio · Poem · Poetry · Reiki

I Am a Revolution

I am a revolution

Invoking symbols

Cradling light

Gifted by my Savior,

Whom I met on a path.

 

He emerged from the mist-

At first as my father-

Till angels called

In hymns resounding

A chorus of blue, indigo, violet.

 

From man transformed,

There He stood,

His palms outstretched

And all around Him,

The auras of the ages,

The colors of time,

Silken and white,

Halos with His name.

 

He held them as a ball,

Vibrating colors

Molded into a gift

For my calling.

 

He smiled in gratitude

For my humble offering

To carry good in my heart,

A bucket of blossoms

From seeds yet scattered,

Filling the vessels

For gardens to come

This spring and always.

 

I will walk in His light,

A prismatic path

Lit for onward time.

 

Held gently in His palms,

Which now envelop me,

I feel wrapped in cashmere

Woven by the Mother of Mysteries.

 

He appeared as my father-

Whom He once called in light

To minister to others-

So as not to scare me.

Since His power is so great,

I cannot fathom it.

But it was really Him

This time, and so needed.

 

He whispered many songs,

Harmonious and lyrical,

Such compassion in His hymns

Such grace in His brilliance.

 

I was so blessed and awed

That He would give me these gifts

Wrapped in shimmering colors

With the lace of clouds

And ribbons of rainbows,

Red, orange, yellow,

Fire pure.

 

And innocent was I to think

I would meet a lesser Guide.

 

Why was it for me to find

So great a gift, the Divine.

The answer was clear-

I chose the way that took me there,

For I listened for His call,

And His eyes lit my way.

 

There we stood in words

Of time stopping.

Many truths are yet

To be received and revealed,

Many gems to find

In the rock face of my soul.

 

His words, solid beams

Of empyrean fire are

Dispersed on my heart,

Where He gathered me

And where I will take Him

Back down that path.

 

Copyright © 2017 Barbara Harris Leonhard

Image:  https://pixabay.com/en/fire-heart-heart-fire-love-symbol-961194/

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Audio · Micropoetry · Poem · Poetry · Prose

My Chair: My Stillness

 

My chair

by the daffodils –

a sacred throne.

 

My stillness

fights off two souls

wanting my garden.

 

Sun blankets the snow –

daffodils slowly

raise their heads.

 

These three haiku are related. One Spring, I bundled up in a hoodie since it was a bit chilly and settled in a chair next to the daffodils that I wrote about in the haiku. The snow had melted, and the daffodils had perked up. I was delighted they had survived being snow bound. The two souls were my husband and a music student wanting to play music in the garden. However, they turned away when they saw my quiet repose as I was firmly planted on my throne with no intention of surrendering my place.

I think finding quiet time in nature is very enlightening. That day, I wrote several Haiku since I was able to find the silent space between thoughts. Thoughts are distracting and can hide truth. If I just follow my thoughts, I go nowhere, but if I can meditate in a peaceful setting, I can travel to many places, mainly inward to the source of all poetry. Poems are like dreams – full of symbols open to interpretation. The picture of the chair transformed into a throne by the resurrected daffodils raising their heads from under the blanket of snow was a transforming moment. Despite any obstacle, the soul can rise above the turmoil and danger it faces. Everyone can find these sacred moments and places; everyone can write poetry.

Stillness is the key and stillness is the mountain. If we find stillness, we can hear the chorus of poetry and songs of our hidden potential. Stillness makes us strong and grounded and all knowing, like mountains. Mountains symbolize our core strength and inner wisdom, for they know the secrets of the ages and so are ever lasting symbols of truth. Many ascended masters, like Jesus and Moses, were enlightened on mountains, making mountains a significant source of inner knowing.

Stillness is paradoxical because who would guess that stillness could be so rich with the sound of rhyme and lyrics. We are so busy everyday that we don’t hear these songs which intend to enlighten us. In fact, we are so used to the noise of daily life that we can’t stand to be alone. However, it is necessary to seek out a time and place every day to just listen as well as watch. By observing the symbols of silence, we can write poetry. In my case, pondering the circumstances of the daffodils smothered in snow gave rise to poetry about the human condition. One could trample the daffodils, not seeing how they were suffocating, but one could also observe them and listen to what their message is. This communication gives rise to poetry.

This process of mediating on the silent spaces between thoughts is healing, and if I can’t go to that place for a period of time, it is unnerving. Maybe that is why I do not oblige anyone by surrendering my sacred throne.

(I originally published this blog on another site I had.)

© 2017 Barbara Harris Leonhard; poetry and image (my garden) @extrordinarysunshineweaver.blog