Freedom, Song of Bliss, Grey is the Sky

 

Freedom

 

Primal states are not caged,

locked up, or limited.

If we listen closely,

we hear music, and we dance.

 

Our form defines the boundaries

within which we are constrained.

 

We worship what has been

forgotten, but not lost.

Return is possible

because departure was temporary.

 

 

Song of Bliss

Had love a wall, we would breach it,

had it a roof, we would remove it,

welcoming mysteries of the night,

for we are illuminated by

the brilliance of Your light.

 

We celebrate us, beloveds in a cradle

of rocking dreams, because we delight

being sung in lullabies round,

devotions entwined

and scribed into one another’s staves.

 

We no longer crave to find outside

what is within, mirror image and twin,

for rhythms which swell in our hearts

have evolved tunes, as scents

of blossoms have led to blooms.

Within, ever present, never muted,

sound songs of eternity

embodied in

bird calls, sea swell, and the music

we hear in our beloved’s voice.

 

Within, ever present, never dimmed

shines the light of creation,

mirrored in flashing eyes,

in flames,

in shafts of sunlight.

 

Within is gentleness and homecoming

for which we need not yearn,

for all our journeys imply return.

Our end that is without end, 

is a snowflake melting in the sun.

 

 

Grey is the sky

 

Under eaves, sparrows chirp,

drains accept drizzle and we

who meet on daily plod

are cheery because to be

grumpy pulls everyone down.

 

To the everyday table we

bring small memories that are

inseparably part of a greater

continuity, when causality

dissolved in a dream.

 

By Misha Norland