Self is the
Transcendent ever-effulgent
burning light within,
Soft as moonlight
brilliant and accepting
of everything.
Powerful, expansive and
Love in a pure form
that embraces all
and the world
and the worlds beyond.
I bow to this seed of the Divine
in mine own heart.
So sweetly present
and all encompassing.
A loving gentle glance
containing the world.
So peaceful, and profound.
All images in this blog by Terry Dorvinen (TerryDorvinenPhotography.com) except the Western Tanager and Lightning.
I awaken
the sleeptime is dark
but I just barely
see her outline.
Isabella has the form
of the panther,
her head sleek and rounded
ears back.
She is there,
but not there,
because panther visits
and lets me know
I am not walking alone.
Panther then moves
slowly toward me.
I feel the feather touch
of the whisker
so softly grazing my skin
it is alive and electric
with power held in form.
The ever-so-slight
touch of her face,
the damp breath
and kiss of a cat’s nose
a hair’s breadth
of blessing
so pure
I feel as if the moon
has just touched me.
Doesn’t it seem
if I could sail
and be gone from this world
to only the ocean’s embrace
That soon,
my thoughts
would flow freely out
into the open sea
and my mind
would empty
and be so clear
that only the sun sparkling diamonds
would touch my sight . . .
only the cries of gulls
would reach for my memories
only the brined salt air
would burnish my lungs
until I could only breathe
and speak of the ocean.
Tides would move me
as the moon willed
and the sea creatures
would accept me as their own.
The galleons move steadily, majestically
across the sky
unburdened by the past,
carrying only the weight
of a cloud’s creation.
They’re riding low
in the water,
obscuring the mountains
and bearing to the north.
There is no stopping
this forward movement.
Time itself would have to pause
and let the wind
catch its breath.
This winter has been a time
of quietude.
The heavy snows
have kept me in
away from the ice;
an enforced solitude
that has brought me to the comfort
of peace.
Without my curious mind
craving learning,
I’ve had weeks
of no contact
and a strange
lessening of desire
for anything in the outer world.
I often sit here
by the window
in such contentment,
resting in the sweet
pleasure
of not wanting
to be anywhere else
than here.
If loving God is the only pleasure,
how have I gone
so far afield
to seek you in every avenue
but Home.
How can I be so misguided?
How can I live
each day
strangling my fragile joys
in exchange for headaches
and deadlines,
guilt, pressures,
forgetting the unbounded
glory of love
with these paltry wanderings.
Where goest my heart now?
Gazing to another illusory delight.
Only nature is true
to me these days.
The wind and fierce cold,
the sky carrying
flagships of clouds.
The buttes singing
in their steadfast manifestness.
All that is truth.
My gaze need stray no more.
Myriads of seasons and joys
bring me to this sweet afternoon
where lilacs embrace me with the extravagance
of their perfume.
Such luxury. A hundred thousand corollas
shine with their singular expression.
The softness of one,
joined in a chorus of scent
so profoundly moving.
I hear their chant
in my bones
and taste their nectar.
Thank you for this kiss of immortality
ever sweet,
every Spring,
your gift of love.
