The Infinite Embrace

A new world,

told in the tale of a garden,

a rejection and the aeon-long journey

to resurrection:

all, all,

an echo of the call to come home

to the heart of Love...

Pictures

and parables

to paradise point -

full circle through

birth

and death

and there, beyond the veil,

another, deeper breath,

another life,

another homecoming,

another spiral

in the circle...

all, all,

an echo of the call to come home

to the heart of Love...

A baby in a manger,

outcast,

stranger,

prophet,

priest and king -

all, all,

an echo of the call to come home

to the heart of Love...

And those who came before,

whispering at the door,

pointing to the One

who was yet to come -

Shining like stars -

prophets,

shepherds,

warriors,

all, all,

an echo of the call to come home

to the heart of Love...

Run! Flee!

Away to sea -

Stowaway - Sail!

Stormy waves

deliver to the belly of the Whale...

The depths,

the abyss -

nothing darker,

nothing lower

than this...

Three days, three nights

and re-birth beaches

back to Grace.

All, all,

an echo of the call to come home

to the heart of Love...

Dragons,

Queens,

Deception,

destruction,

annihilation...

Resurrection

and redemption:

a new garden,

a new world,

a new homecoming:

a new Heaven,

a new Earth,

an eternal re-birth -

all, all,

an echo of the call to come home

to the heart of Love...

Ragnarok,

tell the tale

of what is yet to be:

Wars and floods,

where gods pass away

and all is swept to sea...

and all is restored,

remade

and the circle remains:

all, all,

an echo of the call to come home

to the heart of Love...

Rise, Ra!

Creator, sustainer,

whose whispered words bring life.

Every day you stride,

bright -

and run,

dark with the dead

by night,

Of living

and dead,

of blindness and sight,

rise new every morning

and resurrect the Dawn.

All, all,

an echo of the call to come home

to the heart of Love...

The Green Man Sleeps under white frost

and the days shrink

to the size of pennies.

Holly bleeds berries

and firs freeze...

It is Time.

Naissance time,

time for Ouroboros to smile

and reveal its tail,

time for the Incarnation,

the Exhalation,

the birth of the Divine.

Brighid smiles

and her eyes are alight with the fire of spring,

bright with threefold promise.

The darkness breathes:

Spring stirs,

Hope is born

and Redemption sings its morning song.

all, all,

an echo of the call to come home

to the heart of Love...

In the still-dark days,

where Frost feels welcome

and snowflakes make love

to the cold ground,

In the silent pause,

the bated breath,

in the steel of Winter pretending death,

a swell,

a stirring sigh,

naked branches stretch stark fingers

to a steely sky -

an upbeat

for a coming downbeat,

and the overture begins to play.

Brighid steps upon the softening Earth,

Swans fly above the sunrise flame

and the world is given birth

again.

all, all,

an echo of the call to come home

to the heart of Love...

Mighty Mithras,

Solstice-born

and resurrected

when Summer dawns,

Guide to light

beyond the darkest night,

creator and bearer of the silver moon...

The blood of your sacrifice

makes flowers grow

and there is nourishment in its tail.

All, all,

an echo of the call to come home

to the heart of Love...

Ostara,

goddess,

fertile in Spring,

birthing Divinity

in the heart of Winter -

all, all,

an echo of the call to come home

to the heart of Love...

Ouroboros,

Eternal

serpent-circle,

first life and all life

and everlasting life,

Turning and re-turning,

ever renewed,

indestructible,

within and beyond,

infinite

Ouroboros,

Eternal...

all, all,

an echo of the call to come home

to the heart of Love...

Ceridwen,

Keeper of the Cauldron,

stirring souls to life.

The womb of your tomb

gives birth to resurrection

and pours inspiration

from the Dark of the Moon.

Knowledge is kindled

in the depths of your eyes

and souls are reborn,

more knowing,

more wise...

all, all,

an echo of the call to come home

to the heart of Love...

Here I am,

shedding my skin

again,

leaving it

beneath bright, burning sky,

to shrivel and die

while I

journey on.

Here I am,

shedding my skin

again,

my bright,

shiny scales

all gone

in the dried-out death of days.

Here I am,

shedding my skin

again

and going on,

new and bright,

born again -

again

and again -

into the light

of a new dawn.

all, all,

an echo of the call to come home

to the heart of Love...

The spiral on the rock,

blood-red,

breathes a sigh of years,

carrying carnadine connection

like conception,

and incarnation,

like death and resurrection -

like tears.

It whispers through my DNA,

curls around my double helix heart

and reminds me

of galaxy

connections.

Curled into the shell of my soul,

Spirit stirs,

susurrating stars

onto the warm breeze

and echoing

from every petal

of every flower,

from the turning of distant seas -

from whirlwinds

and weather fronts,

seashells and stardust

and the circle of days...

Atoms hang,

placed perfect

on the stave of existence -

and the music plays.

all, all,

an echo of the call to come home

to the heart of Love...

Persephone,

pomegranate-laced,

from earth’s life

to depths of death and back,

each year renewed

and turning as the seasons roll,

all, all,

an echo of the call to come home

to the heart of Love...

Jesus,

Logos,

Word Incarnate,

Creator, Brother,

King...

Bright morning star,

warmed by animal breath,

swaddled in humanity...

Grow, go -

out to the wilderness,

down to the watery depths,

hung up high

to die

and fall

to death’s dark arms.

Rise again,

Resurrection-strong,

your Spirit blazing bright,

Light of the world...

all, all,

an echo of the call to come home

to the heart of Love...

All things change,

all things pass away,

The seasons roll

and night turns into day -

and day to night -

and all things fail:

all five senses,

hearing,

sight

and the soft, grey,

end-of-day...

But love does not.

Love does not change

or pass away with death -

love does not linger until that final breath

is breathed

then go on its way,

forgetting memory

in fresh beginnings,

in the approach

of a new day...

Love does not go away or change at death

And this

seems

to be

some kind of clarity

that something bigger,

something stronger,

something Absolutely Real,

is here

and there

and everywhere

and

Absolutely

Love.

All, all,

an echo of the call to come home:

Home to the heart of Love...

…and the circle of life

continues.

Into pale Dawn’s eyes

light of a new day rises,

by twilight hemmed

on either side.

The first breath of spring time,

the prelude and coda to

Winter’s return

and each new year

is born to the corpse of the old.

Life is renewed

in the daily death

of light,

and dark of night

brings sunrise

to the twilight hills.

Here my spirit lives

again and lives again

in the rise and fall breathing

and heartbeat of time.

Light years away

my spirit is shining

in stars in the sky,

and the circle of life…