Signs Round The Corner

Luke's last post got me thinking about how unpredictable life is, how beautiful and yet intimidating change can be, how precious a gift it is to be "here and now", forging your own path. It also reminded me of a poem I once wrote, inspired by thoughts and feelings quite similar to the ones filling my head this morning...so here it is :).

The dirge of the Soul
is dolorous.
It moulds itself not
into shapes of words.
Message is universal,
still, melody varies.
The sound of marshes at midnight.
Or cannonballs in a piercing flight.
The dirge of the Soul can be quiet.
Dead quiet.
The cracking of Heart is an earthquake
amidst such ubiquitous quiet.

The juice is invisible
but spurts constantly out of me
in jets unseen.
The juice is made of life.
It seems that we
incessantly
patch our skin
to hold it in.
Though you say it is only a journey
taken in the dark.
The dirge of the Soul keeps the memory...

...

Did I perhaps think
that I was blindfolded?
Did I fail to remember
my purpose?
Even still, the signs round the corner
shall never refuse me
their pointing hand.
Truth does not reside
in cold places,
my feet understand me -
the beauty of experiments
calling out in the open.

You, who are swimming
among self-contrived woes,
crushed by the shadow
of everyday gnats,
shall not taste the Gift...
Yet this is it - one at a time,
only one at a time
and don't waste your place in the line
searching for detours,
when it's all here
in lovely colours,
awaiting you...