unask

 

As, in a theatre...

I said to my soul, be still, and let the dark come upon you
Which shall be the darkness of God. As, in a theatre,
The lights are extinguished, for the scene to be changed
With a hollow rumble of wings, with a movement of darkness on darkness,
And we know that the hills and the trees, the distant panorama
And the bold imposing façade are all being rolled away—

I said to my soul, be still, and wait without hope
For hope would be hope for the wrong thing; wait without love,
For love would be love of the wrong thing; there is yet faith
But the faith and the love and the hope are all in the waiting.
Wait without thought, for you are not ready for thought:
So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing.
Whisper of running streams, and winter lightning.
The wild thyme unseen and the wild strawberry,
The laughter in the garden, echoed ecstasy
Not lost, but requiring, pointing to the agony
Of death and birth.

 

T.S. Eliot, from Four Quartets

 

 

 

 

O glistening sunlight

 

O glistening sunlight,
O iridescence, O unique shining,
The wedding of the Godhead:
O burning jewel.

The clothes you wear are noble
They fall straight and clear;

Your friendship is with angels:
A citizen of the sacred.

Come, enter into the palace of the King.

 

Hildegard of Bingen, transl. Tom Davis

 

 

 

 

scamel

there is a new entry in our scamel blog.

 

 

 

 

living

 

The fire in leaf and grass
so green it seems
each summer the last summer.

The wind blowing, the leaves
shivering in the sun,
each day the last day.

A red salamander
so cold and so
easy to catch, dreamily

moves his delicate feet
and long tail. I hold
my hand open for him to go.

Each minute the last minute.

 

Denise Levertov

 

 

 

 

 

a shout of joy

 

The human seed goes down in the ground
like a bucket into the well.

It will come up filled and over-filled
with unimaginable beauty.

Your mouth closes, here,
and immediately opens
with a shout of joy, there.

 

Rumi, On the day of my death, Ode 911.

 

 

 

 

swan

 

the swan will fly at last alone
the world will seem a sideshow then.

when the leaf is taken by the wind
who can say, where it will fall?

when life's short length is ended
no more circumstance, no more attributes.

when Yama, Lord of the Dead, sends his call
the self is helpless, overwhelmed

and then you will know God.

 

Kabir, 1398-1448. Transl. Tom Davis