My Master's Twine

Dead is the loving master
Gone is her way

Lonely
Is she who remains
Mourning
Each day

The night sky has no answers for the young one who longs.  She grieves a love so deep, the ocean cannot heal her; her core is torn…

The master’s touch is gone

Her gentleness carved my body

            I ache for her comfort

                        Now but a memory

She brought peace into my heart

She understood its place

She held me in her soul

            It did not crack

                        I was safe

The master was wise with example

Even through my fears

            She kept by my side

                        Days turned into years

           

It is how she loved me that I miss most

It is what others do not understand

The measure of our bond

                                  Was a cord

                                  Entwined

                                  With mystical strands

                        The cord was broad and eternal       

                        Far into the depth it went

                        We’d collapse in this place of devotion

                                  Our entire Being

                                  Spent

When the master’s eyes no longer shut

Her soft hands released mine

I absorbed her tears with my lips

   Broke free

                                             Marked the time

                       

The depth had opened up

Taken my master and her love

The cord that kept us together

Secured us from above

I threw myself into the depth

            Following my master’s twine

            But the cord from above was unyielding

            Ripping me in time

I am only half a Being now

My master

She is Whole

Her breath sustains

In the depth

            Where she is the keeper

            Of my soul

           

I remain,

Lesley

Hallelujah Heartist

the owl in the desert

In the damp, rank cavern of my disease, the ego, I inhale the fresh frigid air and stare out into the night.  The winking faces in the sky serve to remind me how vast the real world is; how vast the illusion of our separateness - a trick of the ego, the disease of Self.

A Great Horned Owl visits me now and then perched way out, it’s rare I see it nearby.  Mostly I hear its massive wings tuck when it settles, its colour blending into the darkness.  Tonight, it seems, I’m alone, but I’ve been communing with it for nights.  It knows more than I possibly could.  The owl’s very life is closer to the infinite than I am at this moment.  It tells me stories of the beginning when there was only Love.  It tells me news of the desert as though this were my home and not some place I’m passing through.  It tells me of the smaller owl it consumed before paying me a visit.  It speaks a language at times, I know little of, although I’m gaining knowledge, learning its meanings.

The owl was plain in communication as it told me of Eros. 

The owl had watched as Eros crossed the threshold from this barren wasteland he shared with me to pass through to water, trees, grass and into the arms of another. 

It’s quite possible that Eros’ unyielding gaze to some distant land was a view directly into her eyes, even if he could not see them from the battlefield.

The owl hadn’t intended to hurt me with the details; how much taller than me she was, how muscular, or that she was a Cancer, the Mother of the Zodiac, ruled by the moon and likely a need to be the perfect homemaker.  The owl didn’t aim to hurt me with how the Mother of the Zodiac had a child and how Eros excitedly shared his time with them.  The owl meant no harm as I crumpled into insignificance, unwanted, into ugliness.  The owl hadn’t said she was pretty but it went without saying…clearly this woman was everything I was not.

My self-worth challenged the tears that hotly scraped my cheeks, my lips.  I found myself engaged in battle, warring with a foe stronger than any other I had faced and beaten…the ego.  The ego had swooped in when the owl left, no doubt looking to peck at the dying morsel that was me.  The ego came near, squawked its supremacy.  Spreading its colourful wings, a distraction I now realize, it pierced a talon into me.  Clinging to my arm, I continued to cry, allowing the salt from my tears to enter the wound until small gasps were all that was left of my voice.  The ego grew repulsed at my display, unused to honest emotion I supposed.  It fled on ground at first, scurrying several feet away, until it grew disgusted at the quiet rocking of my body and the subtle sound of my soul opening itself to the Universe, seeking salvation.

Night turned to day, turned to dusk.  When the stars re-emerged and silence filled me, I ripped the lining from my jacket and bandaged the wound. That was hours ago. 

Here, perched for the time-being, I remain,

Lesley

Hallelujah Heartist