Magic Murmurs Under the Stone

Magic murmurs under the stone, canopied by fern fronds beneath a great Mulberry
From here to there arises bespeckled light arcing across the shimmering wind
Cavernity inheres echoing parallax, for initiated open new mysteries hourly
Herewith, philosophies, sciences, psychologies, and all host of doctrinal notions rescind
What holds fast to realize the change upon their skin in numbers sloughing off society

Where does this lead us but to ponder on new
And when doing so, do we not see the necessity for returning to old
In conjunction with what has been learned through
Accepting blindly and wide-eyedly whatsoever any are told
In unification we feel tiredly refreshed whereby life grows bold

How does trend transform into requirement
When has the we benignly stated meant
More or less than it once acceptedly did
And how have we allowed it to mean more than an author’s experiment
In ambiguity, which yet somehow is the goal splendid

So that when I say I love you
The you must be named
And to say we know differences from similarities
Without a proper designation is stated wrongly
For it is impossible to understand the we from yesterday to today

Nonetheless, I love you…
You are so brilliant and beautiful
So full of love and inner warmth
That radiates into your surround
That I am fortunate enough to frequent
For this and more I love you…

Magic murmurs under the stones, the stones of a million years
That have stood companion to the ferns, the trees, the winds in the darkest thickets of forests
That have communed with the lakes, the rivers, the oceans in the currents of the deep
That have offered themselves to serve humanity from its most ancient beginnings
In earthly survival and the sublimity of the heaven from within and without
And everything in between
Firemaker, altar, weapon, the artist’s and the alchemist’s medium alike

And if we have listened to the sounds in the whispers
If we have tried to decipher the meaning within the sounds
What would we hear within the magic of the murmur?

Of this I can only speak for myself
That I love you
That I have always loved you and
That I will always love you
And in your love and my love for you I am redeemed
I am reborn for every thousand deaths I die
In that love I sink to the deepest places of place
I ride to the outer edges of the edge
I soar to galaxies unknown
And I float in a nameless, placeless, faceless sea of bliss

Two clay mounds form in my fingers…
Later, a painting drips from brushes…
Meanwhile, words drop from leaves to assemble poems…
And I think of you, without knowing you…aching…
But comforted, for I know we two will be…

Songs polish a guitar and struggle from strings to sing
Studiousness and edging lead to a living full
Where memories of rocks, ferns, trees, forests below consciousness
Percolate, distilling responses to the incredible
Facets of knowing and trusting

Choosing to polish the facets of knowing and trusting between us
Ours a metaphorical diamond the symbol of our union
And so, too, has it been so long that I have dreamed of you…
Remembering without knowing…
Knowing without seeing…
Feeling without subject or object
Surrendering without expectation
Percolating, distilling responses to the almost nothing
Yet never not trusting when you finally appeared
All trust and naiveté returning upon looking deeply into your eyes
And never looking back…

To our once shared back
To our now shared bed
To our union
Howeven can poetry illuminate
The undersides of rocks and forests above and below land
Wheneven truisms fall blithely into our laps and we sup from the ambrosia
Nectar woven into the tapestries of our lived lives
In our being do we then neglect what came to say we know what comes
In order to change we need do nothing
Change comes as the inevitability of rain where trees at home congregate
The leaves falling or simply growing
Reflect seasonal interludes as surely as the deepest recesses find
A rhythm
This rhythm is one we have found and relish in its abundances