The Trial of the Flame

flame_by_vexix1887
Photo from Deviant Art

Well take my hand, and follow me,
Through the trial of the flame.
Oh take my hand, and follow me,
Through the trial of the flame.

Now well within the cold dark battlements,
Black raven calls my name.
Never’ fore have I explored this backside of my brain.
There amongst those misty ruins likes this port of death and pain.

Take my hand, we’ll make a stand,
Through the trial of the flame.
Well take my hand and follow me,
Through the trial of the flame.

Gonna take this long trek down the shoreline.
Where the sea awaits me there,
If you do not fear it friend,
You’re ‘bout as mad as can compare.
Lost souls, and ghosts and phantoms are there awaitin’ in the rain.
So take my hand and walk with me through the trial of the flame.

Take my hand and follow me,
Through the trial of the flame.
Take my hand and follow me,
Through the trial of the flame.

How does it happen now good lad
Black raven calls your name?
On this dismal voyage through a world that reeks of death and pain.
So clear the smoke it’s vastness so infest your mortal brain.
Take my hand I’ll lead you through this trial of the flame.

Take my hand and follow me,
Through the trial of the flame.
Take my hand and follow me,
Through the trial of the flame.

 

 

I may not have all of the lyrics of this song correct, but they are as close as I can get them from listening to Garold Amadon’s album “Tillerman’s Rye”.  This song for me is speaking to a lot of trials that I seem to be going through lately; with the fibromyalgia, the changes in my social groups, my work and in my spiritual life.  It’s funny, Tillerman’s Rye came out over 20ish years ago now and those lyrics are still as meaningful now as they were then.

We aren’t meant to be stagnant beings on this planet.  We are meant to learn, grow wiser and to help others.  But that doesn’t mean it isn’t going to hurt along the way as we stretch ourselves.  We can only try to keep moving forward, keep pushing, keep striving for what is right for us and for our communities.

 

(Song by Garold Amadon, off the album “Tillerman’s Rye,”  available at his website)

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Poem: I fly

The draft around me
I feel the sky
Wings outstretched, taut
I  bob and weave, leaning  into the wind
I see my prize

Water splashing around me
I dive in
Chaos reigns and could kill
Only a moment I have
I claim my prize

Pounding hard now
I regain my height
Heavier than before
But yet I overcome
I have my prize

I shall live a day more

Poem: Spring Beckons

The world is in contradiction
Snow flies in the air, yet the birds sing
Water cackles in its power
Now is time of change
The melody of your voice reaches my ears

The sound attracts my attention
It’s time for more change, Time for movement
Time to break free, to venture out
I must leave my entombment
Crawl into the unknown landscape of devotion

I have grown too strong here
Too strong for that which I am housed
Shall I stay anyway and scream from the pain
To keep old self together
For the rest of my days?

Yet, if I go, will I be quenched of thirst?
Will the well be properly filled so I may I grow?
Or is it my lot in life to shrivel?
To ache in pain and despair of yet another ordeal?
My cries satisfying needs of those unknown?

My choice is not mine as I reach to you
Pain is mine as I force myself open
Yet knowing ecstasy and joy of life
Allowing the tryst to begin

You see my torment and relish in it
Smiling you reach deep within
Rare is it that one opens before you
Coming so far and daring to go further
As far as one can go in a lifetime

You are not surprised at my action
As the dance begins
The answer of the heart rings true
As do the oaths
The only surprise left Is where the exquisite rapture takes us next.

 

 

Photo from Deviant Art

Poem: Reality Received

Blindfolded and reaching I find,
The start of that which was bound
Undeterred, I pressed on
Not knowing anything wrong

The smell of blood caught me
The liquid to my touch, thick and sticky
“No, my dear” He said quietly
“Do not step back, press on directly.”

The wounds I felt were deep
Her moans from pain I reaped
Understanding nothing, I continued
As his reassurances were issued

Finally, feeling the pain I knew
What was not within my view
He took my blindfold to confirm
That which I could now discern

I looked at the reflection where I reached
The blood and sores I beeseeched
I had not known what I asked
Yet now, my die was cast

The Trickster laughed and smiled at me
Yet ever his eyes wept tears for me
“You locked yourself in this trap” said he
“It’s spikes and thorns still tight in thee”

“Fear of failure, fear of anger
Your personal jailers clamor
Their protection ended long ago
And now they keep pieces unknown”

“Learning is healing, yet pain exists
You called it to you, and did insist
Now take the shards back from the abyss
Accept the pieces in as they fit”

I stared in disbelief,
How could I, in my grief
Ask for such a thing of hurt?
Yet I did – my soul, I tore apart

Now the healing has begun
The pain comes as I awaken
But now the true work is being done
As I slowly integrate into one.

Photo from Deviant Art

Poem: Spirit

The spirit within me burns.
It burns with passion for things that I do in my life.
It burns with desire to be stretched
It yearns to shine within the eye.

The Spirit  longs to burn that which does not help
The Spirit longs to fill the space left with warmth and flame.

It burns with strength.
It burns with desire,
It burns to touch other spirits.

It is not mine to say ‘turn it away’ because it shines too brightly.
It is not mine to hide, afraid that I would burn another.
It is mine to be the reflection.

The Spirit is mine to allow its energy to saturate me;
It’s mine to allow the warmth to flow from my fingers,
Dripping onto the things that I touch
Changing those things unavoidably.

For that is the nature of the Spirit.

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How The Mother Became Clothed in Life

I sat at the edge of the shore, watching the sun rise above the water, As I watched the sun, I felt the Great Mother stir.  She reached out, and I felt her energy again as I have these long days of summer.  Her voice filled my head as she started to tell me a story.

“Long before the sounds of the waves, or the light of the stars or the rustling of trees.  Long before all of these, all was silent. No life grew upon me.  The only warmth I felt was from within.  My womb was barren, and I was alone.

I yearned for that which I could nurture.  I yearned for beauty, for the quiet peace and strength of life.  But there was none.  And I cried in my loneliness, tears of stone seeping through my skin.

And Father heard me.

He reached out his rays, for he knew the potential deep within me.  His light blessed me, it brought me ecstasy.  He healed my pain and filled my womb.  His gentleness sparked my heart, and together we created the four winds.

The Wind of the North brought insight and strength in the quiet time
The Wind of the East brought forth new beginnings and intuition
The Wind of the South brought passion and courage
The Wind of the West brought transformation

Father was happy with these things, and he embraced me still.  And together, we clothed my body.

The Ice of the North Wind formed on top of me
The East Wind pushed the ice onto my flesh and shaped me
The South Wind melted the ice and soothed my sores
The West Wind moved the water to its new home

And thanks to the winds, the green came!  They were beautiful!  Greens, the things that grew!  I had not known that I had the strength to hold such beauty gently upon me!

But the North Wind blew again, and the green was afraid because they were not strong. So the East Wind told them, “Do not fear my brother of the North, for I will make you new again!” The Greens trusted the East Wind and released their seed to rest on my flesh, comforted in the knowledge that they would come again.  And the East Wind blessed the seed and spread it around.

The North Wind cooled my flesh and the greens passed on.  But I carefully protected the seed from the cold.  And because the East had blessed it, the seed was ready when the South Wind blew his warmth.  The West Wind also brought it’s powerful wind to clear the space of the dead green to allow the seed to grow.

As the East Wind had promised the Greens, the seeds started to grow.  And as the seed, grew, colors appeared!  Not only had the Greens returned, but this time they were also golds and reds and pinks and yellows!  Colors I did not know I could give birth to – beauty beyond what I could ever imagine!

And that is why the East Wind brings life and intelligence.
The South Wind brings passion, courage and warmth.
The West Wind brings transformation and change.
And the North Wind brings the cold and rest.

I was very happy and cared for my Greens and Colors carefully, but Father was not done. He said, “You will birth even more wonder.”  Father kissed me yet again and more life came!  Four leggeds and two leggeds and the winged ones, the slippery ones and even the many leggeds came forth!  And I loved them all.

Yet as they grew, I knew that they needed more guidance.  So I asked the Winds to help me guide these creatures.  And the Winds agreed, and they speak their truth into the hears of the living creatures.  They teach the songs and tell the creatures what greens can help to bring balance and health, what greens can soothe and what songs and words to say, what dances to dance, and they teach the creatures to be happy.”

I smiled, my heart full upon hearing Machi-Ma speak her story, my eyes filled with wonder and delight.  She continued on:

“Now, I am old, but I am still clothed in wonder and in beauty.  And I am happy that I give birth to so many wonderful things.  But now the time is come that many cannot hear the Winds anymore.  They do not understand why they hurt and are sore.  If they only opened up their heart to the Winds and heard their laws and stories again they would be happy.

I hurt for those that cannot understand.  But I do not grieve any loss.  For my strength runs very deep and will always be there for the ones who feel it.  And should their hearts soften, the Winds will still speak to them of the ways of life and transformation.

There will be change, as there always is, and the Winds will continue to speak their song to all hearts, and someday, all of my life will listen again.”

 

Come Back to Battle

It came to me today
The picture, freshly taunting
Salt to the wound, it was
The battlefield, always haunting

My eyes filled, my heart ached
Memories came flooding back
Of wasted time, wrapped in fear
And battle skills I sorely lacked

Courage had I, Heart too
It took all that I had
Just to wear the colors
And to hold my sword, armor clad

Oh to go back then
Just to try once more
Prove what I say I was
The Lady Fighter in that war

Now, body broken, spirit still healing
I stare as the picture speaks
It whispers hope if I let it
Yet also taunts me in its shrieks

I grow stronger now, yet cannot tell
What the fates have in store for me
Perhaps yet I can answer the call
Perhaps yet, I could still be.