“Vague and nebulous is the beginning of
all things, but not their end,
And I fain would have you remember me
as a beginning.
Life, and all that lives, is conceived in the
mist and not in the crystal.
And who knows but a crystal is mist in
That which seems most feeble and be-
wildered in you is the strongest and most
Is it not your breath that has erected and
hardened the structure of your bones?
Could you but see the tides of that breath
you would cease to see all else,
And if you could hear the whispering of
the dream you would hear no other sound.”
Excerpts from ‘On Death’ – The Prophet by Kahil Gibran.
Rooted in stillness I know not how to speak, I am shocked into being.
I could tell you how waves of knowing rolled onto the shores of my heart the night we met.
I could tell you of the earth tilting on her axis when we leaned toward each other, whispering our names.
I could say a million different things but instead I think I will relax my intellect, just as I relaxed into a hug that I could have existed in for an age.
I know only that I have been cycling through dark and muddy cosmic gloop.
The night I met you I cracked in ecstasy like an egg and felt my insides surrender to death, to the end of things.
My insides gave up resisting.
My soul recognised the tiredness and whispered to me amidst a hundred beings chanting; This is sacred tiredness.
We held onto that space and turned to face each other.
There is only one way to turn away from the cosmic cogs that bind; slowly.
Turn too much and the harsh hand of the Father will come down, righting you against egoic will.
Instead, let there be a lesson.
Sacred turning cogs led to whispered promises.
Whispered promises turned manifest in reality.
I see you, I hear you.
Give me a hug
see you soon
(sacred whispered promises spill forth from the cogs of the river wheel)
shedding of skin
almost sent me giddy.
Let’s see where this goes,
but in any case
I am grateful to know
I am capable
I am powerful.