My Quickening

In the crackle-sharp air of that blazing Autumn afternoon
I stood on my Grandfather’s porch
and felt myself ‘feeling’ for the very first time

The grey, porch paint
The dust in the driveway
The skies burning
Azure edged
Sharp enough to cut you
The flaxen-gold collage of the maples and oaks
and ever-dying apple trees

The wind was walking the hillside
and something sonorous sang me into Awareness
Somehow my hands had become things of strange and surreal beauty
as I pressed them into the wrinkling membrane covering the Universe
My child heart shuddered under the enormity of Reality
and everything took on a texture like something out of a DMT vision

Somehow I knew without knowing how I knew
that I was everything I could see, hear, smell and more
I was the child standing
and something standing beyond
And the man I am now

All watching

All at once
Yet . . .
In a place outside Time . . .

I have walked under many skies
But never again
one so Real

the possession of all that you own

“I might not be able to buy happiness with that much money, but I could make a down-payment.”
“Hon, obsession with money blinds you to the art and texture of your life. You become the possession of all that you own.”
“That much money. . . I’d be satisfied.”
“There is no lasting satisfaction this side of the grave.”
~ from the Handbook of the Reluctant Tyro

When you’ve played the game with Death

“When you’ve played the game with Death as many times as I have, you come to realize that you can’t win, you can only postpone defeat.”
~ from the Handbook of the Reluctant Tyro

When you drink from the Well of First Things

“When you drink from the Well of First Things
the Rush is. . . well, it’s beyond all expectation.
You see your creation take life and cavort in the Temple
and oh how they shiver, quiver and frisson.
Like motes dancing in a shaft of sunlight
falling through a darkened room.”

“Yes,
your creations. . .
but then you come to know
that for every angel you create
a demon must be dealt with.
This is how Logic and Proportion are maintained.
This shows more than anything else
that Balance is the life’s blood of the Universe.”

~ from the Handbook of the Reluctant Tyro

the reality of the sky-eyed child

i met a child on the road
that runs beside Parnassus

and we had conversations about all the animals
the way waters run downhill
and the way the sun plays with the moon

later that day a man came up the path
the man began to scream and stamp his feet
the man challenged the child
and called the child all manner of fowl and vile names

i tried to comfort the man
but he would have none of it
i put my hand on the man’s shoulder
and i saw that where the child stood there was a demon
i jumped away
and where the demon stood there was a fearful child

the man started toward the child and i hit the man
i did my best to deter the man but he got past me

the child picked up a stem of grass
and stuck the man

the man was grievously hurt
and he lay on the ground writhing

the child was very upset and crying

i shouted
“Why did this happen?
Why did he see you as a demon and i see you as a child?”

i did my best to tend the man’s wounds

the child came to us then
and lay his hand on the man’s head

the man drooped and i thought the child had killed him
but the man was asleep and dreaming
his breathing was regular and his face at peace

i looked into the sky-eyes of the child
i asked “Will he die?”
the child replied “Not today.”

there ensued a silence
not unlike the silence between the stars

again i asked
“Why do i see you as a child
and he saw you as a demon?”

the child sighed a sigh
centuries old
then said
“I am reality
and humans see me as they want me to be.”

and i wept
for my own stupidity and carelessness
but the child touched my arm and said
“You may not see me for all that I am
but you see me for the good I do.
Between you and him
I much prefer your interpretation.”

Seraphina

She blushes
turns to face the winter window
“It will be spring soon. . .
How shall i ever find my way back into the sun?”

I lift my hand
a show of humble supplication
“I was wise once
Seems like forever ago. . .
But some things are not to be known
Least of all the means by which water finds its way into the sky
after falling in darkness
There can be no knowing of the script
a tender burgeon remembers not
the ‘how’ of being a flower
How can she know how
to be a flower she’s has never been. . .”

She walks to the light beyond the window’s pane
Sighs a silence ages old
“You poets know nothing but lies. . .”

She has become a shadow in a halo of light
I turn to look past her, out the window

“Then breathe your love into my lies
That they might transcend this humble page. . .”

She says
nothing

In dark places, beauty
Under pewter skies, light
In conflict, fellowship
In all the other places, good humor

Wisdom Prevails

~ William C. Burns, Jr. matrix437@yahoo.com
~ Check my Blog https://chyfrin.wordpress.com
~ Undulating Geometries of the Human Heart, the Inevitable Compilation of William C. Burns,Jr. http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00DYDXQ9W
~ Here There Be Dragons – the Artist Path http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00E8HQZKU

On the Question of Spirit Animals

do you realize that most people don’t even get the glances that you have?
your spirit animal is something that you can not control – just like your heart
oh sure
you leave bread crumbs out for her – only to find out she eats meat
you offer to give her a bath and she is so not into that
this is not some domesticated, sweet, beautiful bird

you spirit animal is all that you are
but the part you can control
and the part you can’t control

she is creativity in its most destructive form
she is the painful beauty of the sun
and she will not answer like a dog

and that is what makes her worthwhile
that is what makes her a thing of rare beauty

so
yeah
you’re either going to have to live with your current rate of progress
work hard
trust your mentor

or you can run her off

because you can

i would chose to feel honored that she has even come to sniff your hand
she must love you very much
because she is feral and wild and just possibly the most beautiful thing ever