For more information on Philip Glass, please see: http://www.philipglass.com/ and for more information on Sacrum Profanum, please see http://sacrumprofanum.com/en. Enjoy!
i.
the sun shines on the meadow ---
a soft ripple flows through the field of wheat
grasses and wildflowers sway as they please
in the breeze as if smiling ---
their cares non-existent as the sun shines and
all is beautiful
all is pleasant
all is truth in this moment.
yesterday is yesterday,
tomorrow will be tomorrow,
and today is enough.
ii.
why do we separate the pieces of our being
as if we exist on different planes?
are we not one person?
what are the thresholds within which we cross,
the hidden lines that transform our molecular chemistry,
changing our behavior one way or another?
our perceptions of a certain
location or
group of people
inflences who we choose to be in a given moment.
iii.
mediocrity.
darkness lingers within us
deceives us with pleasantly-coated lies ---
slowly pulling in small ways
so that we do not see the effects.
guided at first by small nudges
then marionettes on strings
blindly led, until we wake up one day,
pull back the curtains and wonder---
how the hell did we end up here?
indifference.
seduces us
swaying us before we succumb
to the jaws of the monster.
iv.
walking along in a dark street
a lone light flickers
and the cobblestones dully shine as
i stand, umbrella-less
staring at the black sky as
golden drops slowly fall.
moonless sky,
starless sky,
the raindrops as the stars,
the streetlamp the moon.
why must things be what they're not?
is absence of what's real perceived?
so i stand as
stars soak my head,
run down my face and
fall to the ground,
under the fluorescent moon.
v.
the sun rises,
shines in the spaces between the clouds
shedding golden rays as it can.
the clouds - thick and grey - stand firm
to block its light.
yet the sun - ever shining,
continues its ascent,
though unseen behind the clouds.
the clouds - a million grey molecules,
not strong enough along but
together can block the light.
but as one particle falls away,
and another,
and another,
the grey subsides and the sun,
always there, always true,
ever-shinging,
begins to emerge
to now be seen and
understood as existent.
vi.
ballerinas twirl
like pink cherry blossoms falling
in the light and fragrant spring breezes,
lilting and swaying,
dancing their way to the soft grass.
the dancers
light like soft petals and
the slightest fragrance of falling
blossoms, bourrée effortlessly,
as if their movement was controlled only
by the wind.
weightless,
the dancers end,
bowing and exiting,
and the stage is empty of blossoms.
vii.
settled in happy love
understanding
the contentment and comfort
knowing
consistency
subtle new changes
adjustments
but grounded
without regrets.
a familiar dance
done without the worry of forgetting
or not knowing the steps,
laughing at mistakes.
viii.
but then,
life takes a different turn.
something is not as it once was and
life is different now.
nothing is to be done but adjust
quickly.
this is the bad
of "in good times and in bad"
what everyone thinks will never happen to them,
but secretly fears.
ix.
but strength and lightness comes from somewhere
the ability to smile in the face of change,
to pull the grounded-ness from some store within ---
to dance when your partner is gone.
x.
sunrise
flowers open
bees and dragonflies begin
their day's work
amidst the blossoms
as the dew disappears
catching final sun-sparkles
rays of sun emerge over the horizon,
one by one shining
awakening the dust in the air,
warming the wings of day.
xi.
a million faces ---
a million people.
and every one has an individual soul.
overwhelming, isn't it?
when you have the opportunity to connect ---
to come to know one of these souls,
it is like plucking a star from the sky and
holding it in the palm of your hand.
or maybe - just a few in a lifetime -
you can hold it in your heart.
xii.
marionettes and music-box charachters
dancing - old and worn -
to a metallic and plinking tune,
- their forever-smiling faces somewhat melancholy in faded colors-
old pieces threatening to come apart
in constant and commanded motion
spinning and twirling faster and faster seeminglyoutofcontrol
but slowing into a final coda,
one final set of twirls
fixed waves and
painted-on
smiles
slow-
ing
to
a
stop.
until someone winds the crank again.
xiii.
happiness that swells in your chest
overwhelms you
overflows and spills out of you in a smile ---
and even if you don't smile,
it shines in a brief glint in your eyes.
xiv.
lazily,
our boat rocks on the sea
a boat for two -
you and me.
the sun sings in the sky
and one unhurried
seagull flies by.
we've taken in the oars,
and lay casually
on this boat alone,
alone on the sea together -
together you and me.
xv.
can you feel the autumn come?
the slightly cool breeze on a summer day
the brown-edged leaf that falls first
(crunching under your unsuspecting bare foot)
the first cool drops after a warm summer rain,
when green is fleeting
and the earth is ripe.
summer is going,
summer is gone.
xvi.
mary jane ---
walk with me.
hold my hand on this street ---
will you find joy in life?
will you know truth?
mary jane ---
when i cannot pick you up
after you fall,
will you sing
when no one else will sing?
will you dance
when no one else will dance?
dear, sweet, mary jane ---
let me hold your hand while i can.
let me kiss your forehead
and whisper that i love you.
let me show you the flowers, the birds,
let me feel, with you, the sun and
the soft wind.
for one day all you will have of me
is the sun ---
the flowers and the birds ---
the soft wind.
mary jane.
xvii.
blackbirds scatter,
emptying the sky
all except the grey,
and the hint of blue.
and here, in the softest rose hue,
i know that He is here.
i know that hope emerges
and love lives.
though fog lilts and rolls,
conceals and reveals,
what's true is always there ---
steadfast and
unchanging
[despite our mis-perception]
xviii.
water flows over river stones
constant flow ---
taking an occasional small piece
unnoticed by the stone
unnoticed by the river
but influencing one another.
the water flows and the particle goes ---
so we give of ourselves,
and take of others.
until, perhaps,
we have taken and given enough
to continue existence in a new form and place.
xix.
all that we are is enough
once we find the worth in the love
and joy within use and we
cannot help but overflow.
but what a long journey it is
to search so far
for what is directly within us.
xx.
rain patters on the window
as i look out
pen in hand and
empty paper.
each raindrop
a song i cannot sing
a poem i cannot write.