Thursday, 30 June 2016

THE MYSTIC II


A tearless cry is your first silent pledge,
the silver key that unlocks
the doorway to breath, that you may
yield to Fate's Circle.
This herald of your path's commencement,
your newborn wail,
falls through the Sandglass' neck,
raising your spirit into the Now,
into a communion with the Moment
your youthful steps shall forswear,
as you contemplate its fore and aft,
for such is a mortal's wont.

Ponder not Time's flow, but his ubiquity,
for this spiral deity reigns
beside his God.
Aye, he receives the priestess' orison;
his Eye follows the mystic's journey;
his Voice punctuates the poet's praise.
Resonance of their devotion,
pathway and art he gives unto their skies,
that they may bide infolded
in azure troves. These they shall rain upon
hearts that lament the world's tumult,
for such are sensible of the Love
that transforms the spirit's peregrination
into profoundest expressions
of hand and eye.

Therefore, weep, not in despair, but that you
may breathe anew, as an infant
in Time's own arms reaffirming your pact
with Being, with its seeking.
Gather unto you ancient echoes,
for these promise an easing of the Disorder
that dulls Life's silver flow.
Beauty and Truth shall prevail, mayhap under
Stars yet unseen, where you shall
tread plains of joy and sorrow alike in gratitude.
Time's passage shall not measure
your course, nor the whirling of Earths pause
your vessel. Your gifts bestowed
upon the Source shall mark the rhythm
of your soul's eternal flight.

© 2016 Lily's Verse
Lilium Candidum

Image: NIGHT IN THE FOREST
Source: www.pinterest.com
Artist: William Louis Sonntag

Tuesday, 21 June 2016

FLAME III


It was not the clock that
claimed your breath, 
mother,
though its relentless ticking
closed as a vise
around your throat.
No spring-driven beat could
silence the echo
of Life's pulse, nor a synthetic
clangour efface 
the immortal poesis
of an ever present past.

Death's talons could not mar
the face of tomorrow
that shines amid those, 
whose sole endeavour is to
appease an emptiness
that holds illusions of meaning
and rhythm,
a Reality that scars their flesh 
and steals their years,
the hours they choose to fill
or kill with shadows
and hollow sounds.

Earth's palette is my claviature,
the moonflower's breath
my metronome, for therein
dwells Time's essence.
My dreams shall not lie 
stifled, concealed, 
beneath dried blooms 
in a book of moments.
No, they are indiscernible from
woodland and ocean,
dawn and twilight,
from Nature's very heartbeat.
Hopeful utterances, 
the pace of my thoughts,
the wing beats of my soul,
these shall measure my path.
My flame shall strike
discordant chimes in the vault
of your false temple.

© 2016 Lily's Verse
Lilium Candidum

Image source: www.pinterest.com
Artist: Vladimir Kush

Monday, 20 June 2016


SOLSTICE MOON



From a shell of vaporous nacre
you emerge,
Pearl of this Solstice eve,
illuming the tenebrous lane that
leads the spirit to equilibrium.
As gossamer your argent balm
alights upon the Season's golden arc,
as the Muse's Reflection and Eye
that ensoul the marble,
ere the Artist's hand shapes
a fluid stillness
from its veined mosaic.

Your mystical ivory hand realigns,
rejoins disclaimed, broken strands,
guiding kindred souls
to the shoreline of your liquid sanctum,
that they may find their mirrors
by the light of your own.
I would offer the blessing onward,
fair goddess, 
rendering your luminous precepts
in words and hues, that my memory
of your Grace may gladden
hearts yet unborn.

I shall measure the passage of this rare
light in heartbeats,
for hours could scarce hold the silver
of such remembrance,
for each ray is a messenger, 
immense, boundless,
as an ungated moment of easement
flowing eternally through
Heart, Circle and Home.


© 2016 Lily's Verse
Lilium Candidum

Image: FISHING PARTY (edited)
Source: commons.wikimedia.org
Artist: Fitz Henry Lane

Thursday, 16 June 2016

CIRCLE


Within the Circle mortals flourish,
deathless souls retracing
Life's unseen arcs, Time's limpid
brushstrokes looping through
the soundless, motionless ether.

Eternity straddles Universes, this,
the mind construes not,
its thoughts and questions strewn
as broken branches amid
shattered clocks, for Time's path,
meets not the hand and eye,
nor surges unbending
across realms of light and matter.

His lines weave the souls of worlds,
binding discrepant patterns,
raying inward and outward around a
Golden Axis that guides
each breath and pulse.

Within their darkness mystics seek
its Locus, the Divine,
the ouroboros, the luminous spiral
that is the spirit's brace and anchor.
I, as they, would quest
for the Light within,
for the apotheosis of this earthly path.

Within the Circle mortals shall perish,
departing from its coil,
fractioning hours, days and Seasons,
clasping minutes and moments,
these repositories for memories,
our formless aliment upon a journey
of presence in Time.

© 2016 Lily's Verse
Lilium Candidum

Image: THE SOUL BREAKING THE TIES THAT BIND IT TO EARTH
Source: www.liveinternet.ru

Artist: Pierre-Paul Prud'hon

Friday, 10 June 2016


SHADOWS II


Brown shadows of Spring blooms
descend upon a pale grey urn
through the querulous creaking
of a wind vane in the shifting light.

Little, dark suns wheel over a silver
etching of lanceolate leaves,
Earth, vane, floral silhouettes -
Life spins over a realm of ashes.

Reverie bears the weight of the Day
into Twilight, the inertia of
Time unmoving, of gloom unyielding,
bars the gate to memory's haven.

And I must traverse the fringes of my
soul, where our roses blossom,
sister, their hues and shapes known,
remembered, yet, nameless.

I shall await you amid the verdure that
held our wonder and reverence,
ere we surrendered such to words,
our spirits echoing water, leaf and air.

Some aberrant fragrance still casts its
curving lines upon our skin,
wispy coils curling past the soundless
sound of the wind on wing.

Would you tell of the peace of the dying,
of the wordless language of death,
of the eternal hush within a breathing
stillness beyond raging pain?

Shall we bide in our childhood's garden,
till the lark's golden bell sounds
Night's death knell, with the ancient well
drink in the Morning?


© 2016 Lily's Verse
Lilium Candidum


Image: A THORN AMIDST ROSES

Source: www.pinterest.com
Artist: James Sant

Friday, 3 June 2016

METANOIA II


The rain-cribled stone rings my name,
tones of water and sky
unfurling upon the tides of my being
that surge towards twilight.
Upon the steps of the goddess' shrine,
each violet droplet twinkles,
yet, with a lesser brilliance than does
the brine upon my cheek -
this my heart would believe -
for it bears my spirit's memories
of yesternight's jewelled vault,
of white-gold fire that flows unceasing
between Firmament and Eye.
And there shall my soul dwell, this night,
awaiting the strength of stars,
every one reaching
across Universes and Time
to the Crossroads upon which we bode,
ere we were thrust forth into Life.
Shall we, blessed brethren, return to
a celebration of awakening,
of paths I embraced ere mortal impulse
sought to vanquish my purpose?
Shall I once more know the Silence
of a Breath and an Aeon, the stillness
upon the threshold of the Void
that received my resolve to contemplate
Spirit and Cosmos, to live and labour,
that heart, mind and hands
may echo the voice of the Source?

© 2016 Lily's Verse
Lilium Candidum

Image: QUESTION TO THE STARS

Source: www.liveinternet.ru
Artist: Karl Wilhelm Diefenbach