Thursday, September 12, 2013
Summer is fading away. On Thursday morning I walked out to the large lake near to Camp Miller. Later in the day I wrote the following poem:
Ghosts of summer I spied this morning upon the lake.
In the damp, cool morning with a blustery wind whispering of inevitable change my eyes did see the failure of form, the beginning of the end, the dissolution that is
Always and everywhere unfolding.
My heart quickened at first as I recognized the ancient wheel turning once more.
Summer fading and autumn arriving, sadness built a castle within my chest.
I felt the telltale wistful yearning of a season of brightness now passing away…
A season of brightness, of greenness, of warmth in which the warrior came alive to claim his keep.
Yearning and more yearning pulsed within my blood. I could feel my flesh and bones pining for a period of calm and serenity that consumes a winter weary man who has known one too many snowstorms in an unrelenting season. How could summer be leaving me already? So many ghosts were dancing above the lake’s waters. It was a dance of oblivion.
Grief has known such a deep place in me. My summer felt like a winter. How can I prepare for the season of solitude, of darkness, of smiling upon the gift of fire when I was so consumed in this now passing season that I could scarcely worship the sun?
You, grief, greeter of ghosts, one who holds so many keys to so many hearts,
What would you ask of me now?
How can I pour myself out in this time, how can I be made truly as empty as I feel such that one day, when the sun’s power grows ascendant again, I shall be renewed and vibrant, like those first green leaves of spring?
You, grief, I have known you quite well. In my awakening I see your longstanding presence. I ask not that your wisdom ever leave me but that you teach me to dance and sing and walk with you such that all around me appears the amazing depth of luminous creation.