Ephemeral

If you remember me when I am gone
with any sense of clarity, ignore
the critic in the shadows who has drawn
impressions from an outline on the floor.

I never fit within the chalky bounds
of others’ expectations. Still, I tried,
until I was awakened to the sounds
of omnipresent promise amplified.

So when you picture me inside your head,
unhampered by the superficial sphere,
behold a ball of energy that shed
the cover humans wear when we are here.

And soon, in less than one eternal minute,
a burst of light will follow. You’ll be in it!

===
cc-by-nc-nd Mary Boren, 2017

Image Source

Passing Through

walking-each-other

“We’re all just walking each other home.” -Ram Dass

We are fashioned of starlight and moondust,
with each particle numbered and weighed
in the heart of Creation’s unwavering flow
where the substance of everything’s made.

Then we’re hurtled unborn through the cosmos
to be nurtured and challenged and taught,
with our origin mostly forgotten except
when ethereal whispers are caught.

We experience natural beauty
tinged with sorrow and pain as we burn
with unquenchable passion for clues to explain
our existence.  We long to return.

But that glorious lightness of being
in the lap of eternity’s source,
is reserved for escape from the passage of time
with a watchful, benevolent force.

If a tiger jumps out of the jungle,
or a bear charges out of the blue,
or a mugger gives chase down a dark city street,
they’re just doing what animals do.

I will not live in fear for my safety
or let cruelty alter my pace.
There’s a balance in nature that cradles us all
on this rock in the vastness of space.

Whether fluttering, tethered in tandem,
or with feet planted firm in the loam,
I am here with my brothers and sisters for now,
and we’re walking each other back home.

———

cc-by-nc-nd  Mary Boren, 2014

Through Time and Space

(After James Elroy Flecker’s concluding lines in “To a Poet a Thousand Years Hence“)

“Since I can never see your face,
And never shake you by the hand,
I send my soul through time and space
To greet you. You will understand.”

Since I can never see your face
illuminated with the glow
of happiness on seeing mine,
I’ll hold the image as a sign
of ultimate simpatico.
Since I can never see your face
and never shake you by the hand
or wrap you in a warm embrace
this mortal side of paradise,
I’ll hold another human twice
as close to keep the bond in place
and never shake you by the hand.

I send my soul through time and space
on wings of faith that countermand
degrees of gravity. The guise
of distance drops when spirits rise.
Beyond the elemental strand,
I send my soul through time and space
to greet you. You will understand
without a single word — you’ll know
that love has come along to guide
my message from the other side
and circled back through long ago
to greet you. You will understand.

———

cc-by-nc-nd  Mary Boren, 2013

Image Source

The Key

clouds1001

Between the posts of now and yet-to-be
exists an air of utter mystery.
The apprehensive ego speculates
its end occurs when there’s no more of me.

Defiantly, it strives to storm the gates
of heaven, railing hard against the fates,
but on a quiet sea untouched by storms,
the soul knows immortality awaits.

For energy is endless — it transforms
in ways we can’t conceive as essence warms
to universal consciousness.  Esprit
arises from Creation’s vapor swarms.

Regardless of the how or why, the key
is living in The Now abundantly.

———

cc-by-nc-nd  Mary Boren, 2012

To My Soul

underwater-light

My soul, innate divinity —
the spark of God that lives in me,
connecting one with all the universe,
your light can penetrate the veil
and shine where hateful thoughts assail
the finite realm, and easily disperse
the darkness of mortality.

With two or three in easy reach,
you leap to meet yourself in each,
reminding what we didn’t know we knew.
As seat of peace and love and joy,
you magnify the best, deploy
the rest, and fill the spaces through and through
without a single breath of speech.

When ego gains a head of steam
and plots to keep me in the dream
of nothingness, you hold my fear at bay
until the balance is restored.
You are my wings, my rock, my cord;
without you, I would be a chunk of clay
instead of holiness supreme.

———

cc-by-nc-ndMary Boren,  2010

 

Feather

feather-in-sky

“Be a feather on the breath of God.” -Hildegard of Bingen

Breathed into being by God’s unbound
imagination,
I am the essence of everything
in all creation,
destined to soar on an eagle’s wing
above the ranges,
gracefully drifting beyond the sound
of seasons’ changes.

I am a thread in the downy quilt,
beside my brothers,
sheltering nestlings from biting cold
when darkness hovers.
Pivotal, temporal tides may fold
but not destroy me,
borne on an aerodynamic lilt
to guide and buoy me.

I am the spirit of east to west
in acquiescence,
trusting the flow of the breeze that fanned
my holy presence.
Once I am given to understand
the art of sailing,
I will return to the place of rest
through God’s inhaling.

———

cc-by-nc-nd Mary Boren, 2006

 

Feathers Don’t Fade

peacock_feathers

I.

Arrow

I want to be a feather in the pageantry of life,
a witnessing participant that floats above the strife.

A gavel strikes the judge’s bench
with undisputed force
until the next election
when the tide reverses course.

Subjected to the elements,
a hammer’s head will rust —
its handle rendered useless
as it slowly turns to dust.

So whether championed publicly
or building walls alone,
I’d rather drift aloft
than be indentured to the bone.

For fletches fall as gently as a whisper in the mist
delivering a summons with a finger, not a fist.

II.

Quill

I want to be a feather in the cavalcade of art,
severely buffeted by bluster,  never losing heart.

A mule can plow a furrow straight
with naught but fallow rows
awaiting fertile harvest
while its droppings decompose.

A school of fish can navigate
impenetrable lines,
but following the current
draws predictable designs.

So whether borne on eagle wings
or molted from a wren,
I’d rather drift aloft
than be akin to hoof or fin.

For quills will still be moving in the metaphoric haze
as lanterns of enlightenment until the end of days.

———

cc-by-nc-nd  Mary Boren, 2014