Absent – grieving the death of my father (8.5.2016)


Filed under Reflections

6 responses to “Absent – grieving the death of my father (8.5.2016)

  1. Blindness

    in the silence of a forgotten consciousness
    there is a word that yearns to be spoken
    that will unlock the memories
    of my soul

    i have searched near and far,
    within and without,
    but no where can it be found
    in this empirical dimension of expression

    i do know of its existence
    for it whispers to me
    from time to time
    through the threads
    of this malleable fabric
    which i believe to be
    my reality

    my heart is pained
    and my conscious self is thirsty
    and i am enraptured
    with a wonder
    that will not loose me

    the heavens of night
    do naught but increase my want
    and my desire
    for resolution
    to these things
    and movings
    emanating from the very core
    of who i am

    there is no satiation
    to be found . . .
    inebriation lasts not
    the distraction of the world
    but aggravates my need
    for salvation and satisfaction

    i have sought the love of another
    and though the treatise was pleasant
    there still exists an infirmity
    that causes a duress
    which i can not abate

    i have meditated
    and sought the stillness
    and laid my weary head
    upon her breast,
    yet not have i found that rest . . .

    the world here
    gives but momentary solace
    and that is the root cause
    of my malcontent

    it is not justice meted out by another
    that stirs my irk and my ire,
    but that of the seemingly deaf ear
    of That I Am-ness
    which fashioned me
    in this cauldron of need . . .
    and absence

    i see myself as but a solitary seed
    seeking to crest this dark furrow
    which entombs my possibilities

    yes i wish to but sprout, bud and blossom
    and lend my fragrance unto a world
    of my blindness
    that treads lightly
    with no surety

    there is much fruit of my loins
    that lends its sweetness unto existence
    where the things of dismality dominate
    and the darkness has permeated
    my own light body
    and infested me with doubt

    where i ask is thy faith,
    why is it always a tenant
    of the unseen . . .
    if that be the case,
    where doth the substance be stored . . .
    in my dreams ?

    at times i feel like a vessel
    that is almost full,
    yet lacking that particular essence
    that will transmute my being
    to overflowing

    i am but a chalice
    that longs for the lips of thy Lorde
    to kiss me with presence
    and unbind my beauty
    that i may flourish
    as i was envisioned to be

    there is a blindness that abides
    and i cannot see clearly
    through the trees of my forest,
    and my acumen fails me
    for my thoughts are lowly
    and dwell under the rock
    beneath my ardent longing

    absolution i beg for,
    repentance i have offered,
    i kneel at the altar
    of all that is sacred
    begging for deliverance,
    and yet still
    the obscurity prevails

    take from me the scales
    that i may know yet again
    of thy truth

    liberate me from the bondage
    that has enslaved me
    as a child of its own
    dastardly and wretched ways

    yes i yield . . .

    i am cloaked in a void
    where there is an abysmal haunting
    that teases me,
    entices me
    to a certain diligence,
    to push forward
    regardless my lack of sight

    though my blindness dominates my journey
    there belies a hope
    that some day
    i shall again
    know of You
    and I
    and the cosmic construct
    that frees our souls
    to return
    to that place
    where all is well
    with my soul

    touch me

    © 12 April 2016 : william s. peters, sr.



  2. the message

    i have come to whisper in your ear
    the way back
    to that which you long for

    i will hold your heart gently
    in my grace
    as i kiss your soul
    that it remembers
    it’s celestial divine

    there are no gates
    which cannot be opened
    and no doors
    which cannot be unhinged
    for the key to all things
    is yours to claim

    within you are all the answers
    and the only requirement
    is for you to trust in the purpose

    we know of the doctrine,
    and we may speak the tongue
    if we but let go
    of the transitional world
    of empiric things you heed . . . not

    there is a calling
    you have known of
    since your in-carnation here
    and the distraction
    has become our way of life,
    as we have put aside
    our omnipotence

    we cling to
    and we eat of a lesser fruit
    that offers but a bitterness
    that cannot endure
    through the speakings
    of eternity

    i ask not for your bended knee,
    for that is yours to give,
    or not.

    i ask not for your supplications,
    for that is a gift
    i have given
    that you may be clear
    in the path
    of your intentions
    and that which you offer
    unto life

    the message is plain
    the message is simple
    and the fabric upon which it comes
    is without stain . . .
    the wrinkles are of your own making

    the “I AM” has no crooked roads
    and it is all knowing
    while we blindly
    seek our destiny

    the tongue is as a forge
    which can either
    lay the illusion to waste
    and burn the dross
    that your purity may shine through
    like a beacon
    upon the darkness of men’s ways
    once again

    let us cut to the quick
    and bleed the poison we have eaten
    upon the earth
    that Mother may cleanse
    our temple

    the message
    is not new,
    for we always knew
    the path we must travel

    we may travail along the way,
    we may find our road to be filled
    with melancholy,
    but we must count it all
    as a blessing,
    for only by way of the hard
    do we become soft,
    and by way of the soft
    do we realize
    our steel

    incline thy ear unto the wind
    and listen as she whispers
    the way to the loosings
    of the incantations
    that have bound you

    yes, let go
    let go . . . let go
    and hear your name
    be spoken upon the ether
    and come back home
    where your soul
    can once again
    sit upon the throne

    this is . . .
    the message

    © 25 March 2016 : william s. peters, sr.



  3. Teoman Pekoz

    Kaybınıza üzüldük. Allah rahmet eylesin. Sevgiler, Teoman

    Sent from my iPad



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