A Beautiful Morning

Crisp chill in the air
After gentle, soothing rain:
Foretaste of autumn.

Pure Things

Pure things for the pure. How then
Shall we purify ourselves?
By becoming like
Unto the all-pure Gods,
Do we approach Them, reflect
Them back unto Themselves.

Strip away all
That is alien to Them, all
That binds the soul to the depths
Of mighty matter. Instead,
Let the eye of the soul gaze
Upward, homeward, back
To her eternal source.

Then, only then, do we become
Pure. All
Else falls away, impurities refined,
‘Til what remains
Is an offering, pure,
Returned to the Pure.

Lysios

In a dark forest grove
Lit by starlight, flick’ring flame,
Decked with ivy, fragrant flowers,
Your worshippers come, laden down
With their sorrows, their worries.
With the weight of the world.

You, O Lord, lift their burdens.

You show first a glimpse,
Then so much more – rushing,
Swirling, another vision, souls enraptured,
As you draw forth from our lips
Wave upon roaring wave
Of brilliant, rolling laughter.

So hail to you, O Lysios!
Praise, O Lord of Laughter!

Prohairesis

Beneath the plodding of my weary feet
My path seems to forevermore extend
Unceasingly, no respite or retreat,
Without beginning nor with hope of end.
The possibility I might complete
This journey seems far too much to pretend
For one who can’t imagine what he’ll meet
Around the very next upcoming bend.
Yet even if I stop, or turn aside
There’s no foretelling what might come my way:
All that’s my own, within a world so wide,
Is whether I will choose to go or stay.
I place one foot before the other, free
To shape the course of my own destiny.

Athena Moon

Shining bright at dusk
Crescent Moon between tall Pines
Pure yet slender light.
Night of the brow-born virgin:
Athene’s day now begins.

April Snow

Was it only yesterday
I sat for hours
Barefoot in the yard
Sipping iced tea,
Delighting in songbirds,
Basking in warm springtime sun?

Now I sit by the window,
Warm mug held close,
While fresh snow blankets the earth.
The stillness, the softness –
Turn inward, in silence,
As winter returns, one last time.

This Too is Love

Almighty mother of the Erotes
Whose arrows excite and impel
Whose persuasion none can resist
Ineluctable charms draw ever upward
Recalling soul to her source
Setting a divine spark within
Enkindling there an all-consuming flame.

Yet sometimes, softly, in silence,
You whisper to me, “Rest.”
And this, too, is love.

Approaching Poetry

Over the weekend, one of my friends mentioned that she’s interested in the creative work of writing poetry, and asked me for a few guidelines, that could help get her going. I’m sharing some of my thoughts here, in hopes that they might be useful to others, too.

Anam Cara

The gifts of true friends:
Sharing both joy and burdens,
Making light heavy loads, with
Hands, heart, speech, shared silence.
To see, to be seen
In a clear, polished mirror –
Not as we might seem,
But truly, in the depths.
Rest, comfort, safe and secure,
Side by side, in peace.

(May 2019)

Evening Song

In the darkness, twin candles
burn brightly at your shrine,
illumine you Nine Holy Muses,
who illumine me in turn.

You breathe in the incense –
breathe into me, I pray;
inspire me by your presence.

You for whom honeyed tapers
burn down – lay upon me
gifts from your sacred beehives.

(May 2020)