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hell

Laplanders regard with dread and awe-the icy howling wind- the wiiliwaw;

To Northern races like the eskimos, Hell is a place of eternal snows.

Tropical tribes fear the heat and light- their Hell is a place where fires burn bright.

I pondered over this tangled knot, was Hell frozen over or burning hot?

Why should we fear the afterlife ;think it an extension of fear and strife

If it is true that the soul is set free  to adventure into eternity?

The unreal

Gossamer threads I interlace,

Weaving my reality of time and space,

Centered in my here-and-now, my relationships, my coven,

Moving to and fro along strands I’ve woven —

Trying to ingest or preserve  every new thought

That comes my way, hoped for,  yet unsought,

For I need nourishment to develop and grow–

But to transcend my reality? I just don’t know!

 

 

 

Reaching out

My physical defences were  tall towers and  fences,

Which I have still not outgrown,

And my mind is tethered with its superstitions

With cultural myths tie it down.

But I look at the night sky, and my thoughts stretch out far,

Across the light years to some far star

And I know then that I am part of the cosmos

And my mind can’t shrink back to what it once was.

But I still need to get rid of shibboleths that surround me

To be truly part of the Universe around me.

I think it’s really my soul that yearns to be free

While my mind is still obsessed with security!

Fate or Faite

I can use my hands to construct and align

My future with my dreams,  bright and benign,

But, being human,  I am very often blind

To reason and become slothful in my mind

Which leaves me lazy and dull and resigned

To a future which I say my fate has designed

And it’s written on my palm, that’s randomly lined.

I also listen to the astrologer opine

And read and reflect on my particular star sign.

And after spending my time thus I finally find-

That instead of advancing,  I’ve remained behind!

 

 

Starlight, starbright

The sun at noon blazed overhead

It’s after images -were – purple and red.

It masked with its glare those points of light-

Stars that fascinate me at night,

For each is a mighty sun in its own right.

I live on a spiral arm of the Milky Way,

Far from the stupendous array

Of Stars clustered so close together

That to the denizens of their planets I wonder whether

My sun is even a twinkle in their sight

Or do the plethora of suns always dazzle with light

And only my suburb knows the magic of stars at night?

 

Rage

Static in the atmosphere

Thunder rumbles loud and clear,

A flash of lightning, drenching rain,

A rainbow, and all is calm again.

I may cringe at but I don’t cower

At a spurt of anger that soon blows over.

But—

The sullen lava smoulders low,

Building up for a mighty blow,

As an erupting volcano.

With its smothering ash and fiery glow

And the unrelenting lava-flow

That sears the flesh and chars the bone,

And itself petrifies to igneous stone.

This is the anger that I truly dread

For it runs deep and leaves all of us dead.

 

 

 

Bridges

Long ago we used a log to cross the stream –

To cross continent and ocean, we harnessed steam.

We invented propellers and jets to break our cocoon,

To traverse the sky and reach for the moon.

And before many centuries pass, our race

Will cross the unimaginable abyss of space.

But which futue miracle of science will or can

Bridge the divide between man

and man?

And if we learn to read and connect with each mind,

Will this gestalt entity still be humankind?