Listen 30

Listen
Listen to thy heart
For in the listening lies
The silence

Silence of the universe unfolding-stars exploding, collapsing

Time

Sopped

Frozen

Below absolute zero

Hour

There is no

Second

Coming

Towards you

Whispering

Sweet nothings

In your ear

Waiting

Awaiting

The weighted silence

Of absolute being

Alive

Listening
To the universe
Within

The beating

Of your heart

Your breath

Sharing

The universal expectations

Of happiness

Flowing
With he river of time
Towards the ocean of love
Merging
With the coming
Together
To make one
Another
Time
Tasted
In a garden
Before the fall
Listen

And in listening seek

Thyself

For ‘tis in thee

That the truth
Is alive

For thy skin

Is impermeable
And thou arte
Part of the universe

Breathing
In
And out

In
And out

Breathing
Partaking of the reflection
Cast
By the shadow of time
Upon the cross
Between two
Thieves
One of whom
Was to know
The Kingdom of God
Before
His body be broken
In token
Of the time
Taken
With the bread
And the wine
At the last supper shared
In an upper room
Far
From the authorities
Who were waiting
For the news
Of insurrection
To spread
From Galilee
To Baghdad
Whilst three wise men
Wandered, whilst they wondered,
Slipping as the silent sand dunes rose
And fell
Whilst the sun burnt down dazzling heat-waves
Rose
And fell
As their camels
Bore the burden
The travellers moved on
Retracing footsteps followed
Seeking shelter and water
In the hostile desert
Storm
Which raised, as it raged, about them
Words were shed
Like snake skins
The blood flowed
Read
As the word was
Transposed
In the transportation back upon the backs
Of rising
And falling
Sand dunes encircling the motion
Of the camel train
Of thought which fled
Back
Over the rising
And falling
Silently slipping sand
Dunes beneath the beating sun
Back
Into the beginning of the journey
Beyond memory borne myth
Moulded the mystery marvelled
Onwards the wise men meandered
As they wondered and pondered
Through Persia
Through the land where Rumi
Was to spin
And turn
In ecstatic union
In a whirl
Wind of love
Which blew
In the wind which wound
Through the streets and alleyways of Time forgot
To tell the tale they told
Of the events which had begun
To unfold
Like a lotus flower upon the hidden moon-clad hour of silk spun by the worm in China
Which was on the Silk road to run the path to tread from East to West and back
The camels strode upon the sand blown silk road
Whilst the crescent moon grew in vain
Shedding reflections upon the pool black oasis flanked by palm trees
And cacti which grew
In the desert which knew
Once it had been a marsh
Of mangroves, where
crocodiles of the Nile which when in times of flood had swam
beneath the surface known to man
to be speared, not spared nor endeared,
unlike two fish
caught
by fishers of men taught
by the spirit of the word which aught
to blow
in the wind
blown snow
storm
in the desert
sands
where missiles glow
before they blow
up
in the wind
with the words which sew
up the story
the wise men heard
from a fourth who limped to wait
upon a three-legged stool on a hill
beyond a city gate
and wall
outcaste
alone
yet exercising still
free-will
to choose
the path to use
in the time to fuse
for can it be
that the events which unfolded
in history tolled
in the price borne to be paid
unfold this day, this hour, as the Lotus flower
frees the flow of love which leaves
the healing leaves of love which grow
in a garden which all children know
to be
encircled by the Baobab tree
whose branches are rooted in heaven
revealing the mystery
of the beautiful divine Love which shines
like a furnace of desire
alighting the temptations of the night
unleashing them with soothing words of quietude
upon unsuspecting souls caught
in the silence between the word wrought
in vain
Christ called out
In vain
Was his name writ
In vain
Was he slain
In vain
Was the word struck dumb founded silence heard echo past the hour which fell shadow like
upon the sand-swept shore where the waves broke the silence in the warm night air
Breathed
In
Out
In
Out
Whilst Christ prayed
For the ear
To be restored
In the healing power of listening
To the rising
And falling
Within
Each one of us
As we share
Our vision of the world
With one
Another
Whilst we wait
We listen to the weighty silent word within.

When you die to yourself and become one with the Lord
You become a bridge to pass over for those who haven’t heard
of the unfathomable beauty of the music of the word
made flesh spoken in the whispering baited breath
which captures the soul, only to heal it and make it whole
with all, universally encompassed beyond aught
the imagination can wonder at the bale fought
in vain, for in truth all men know the One by many a name