"Banish the word 'struggle' from your attitude and your vocabulary. All that we do now must be done in a sacred manner and in celebration. We are the ones we have been waiting for." — Hopi elders
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May 3, 2009
In the frozen cold
Winter night
My eyes are held
To the glowing sight
The purest white
These eyes can see
Float down so light
To bury me.
Soon I’m bathed
In icy fire.
And my heart is light
As I fly higher.
I breathe in deep
With lungs anew.
My eyes feel young
From this ancient view.
A shadow darts
Past my eyes.
The rabbit leaps
And soon flies.
And I turn green
Amidst this white.
Where he goes,
I cannot quite.
Comments
I recently
— May 05, 2009
went to a Leonard Cohen concert. I am quite ecstatic to say that the lyricism you've put into these lines resembles, but is different from, his writing.
I live outside Winnipeg which is known for temperatures as low as -40 or -50 degrees. A 45 minute walk is part of my commute to the university, and I do this regardless of the conditions. I can relate to this poem quite severely. As the air gets colder to breath, you feel bare, stripped down, lost in some 'ancient view.' The original self. It was on a particularly cold day where frostbite was quickly settling in that I had to run in heavy boots and only made it home by what I felt was the spirit of St. Franics of Assisi. It was the oddest thing.
A ripple in the Ocean of Inspiration
or is it a tranquility? some non-duality
Beautiful. Certainly
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