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Go Back   Spiritual Forums > Most Anything > Poetry

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  #1  
Old 24-03-2019, 06:31 PM
FoxTracks FoxTracks is offline
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Join Date: Mar 2019
Posts: 206
 
Untitled

I plan on posting an introduction soon, but before that I figure'd I'd post this little poem I was inspired to write while reading Evelyn Rysdyk's Spirit Walking.

I am a stone swirling on
Wind and Sea
Letting currents and eddies
Carry me
The sun shines down,
Light enters me

Polished enough
By flows fast and slow
I may not know the truth
But I may see it
I may not speak the truth
But I may feel it
I may not be the truth,
But by becoming clear as crystal
I may reflect it

Inside, the light refracts
Then colors spill out

Such a dream I had
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  #2  
Old 24-03-2019, 10:59 PM
Nowayout Nowayout is offline
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Dreams in color and light we are the palate or the brush?

Welcome, all artists.
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  #3  
Old 25-03-2019, 02:39 PM
Miss Hepburn Miss Hepburn is offline
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Location: Southwest, USA
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FoxTracks, that is just wonderful!!!
More, please...lol.
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Prepare yourself for the coming astral journey of death by daily riding in the balloon of God-perception.
Through delusion you are perceiving yourself as a bundle of flesh and bones, which at best is a nest of troubles.
Meditate unceasingly, that you may quickly behold yourself as the Infinite Essence, free from every form of misery. ~Paramahansa's Guru's Guru
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  #4  
Old 25-03-2019, 09:10 PM
FoxTracks FoxTracks is offline
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Join Date: Mar 2019
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Thank you so much, Miss Hepburn.

I will be posting more here as I continue reading and exploring and hopefully more inspiration will come :)

Last edited by FoxTracks : 26-03-2019 at 09:33 AM.
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  #5  
Old 26-03-2019, 03:25 AM
Ariaecheflame Ariaecheflame is offline
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Very nice... Keep writing
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  #6  
Old 26-03-2019, 11:14 PM
FoxTracks FoxTracks is offline
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Join Date: Mar 2019
Posts: 206
 
Following fox tracks through
The lands in between
I hear, I smell, I feel
A warning, but I know it is false.
I have nothing to fear.

I cut up my dog's old bandana,
Which I love very much,
The old, ratty, stinky thing.
I let it float away on the wind
Just one or two pieces
Every day.
A steady trot
Just like the fox.

It's a prayer, and an offering.
There will be more bandanas,
And I will cry again.
But the salty water will mix
With the dirt
Where a tree will sprout
So tall its leaves
Brush the heavens.
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  #7  
Old 27-03-2019, 11:12 PM
FoxTracks FoxTracks is offline
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Join Date: Mar 2019
Posts: 206
 
Innocence was burnt away,
But recovered from seeds sewn, long ago.

I water the garden and smell the air,
I put out fires and I try to share.

I salted the earth,
And nothing grew.
What a long and hungry winter.
There was nothing I could do
Till spring came again
Like it always does.

So I sow my seeds,
It's such a wonderful day!
I listen to the sound of silence,
And wish for nothing more.
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  #8  
Old 28-03-2019, 02:10 AM
Nowayout Nowayout is offline
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Wish for nothing more, that is it!

Everything else is hinged on just that.

If the earth feeds the body, what feeds the soul?
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  #9  
Old 30-03-2019, 06:16 AM
FoxTracks FoxTracks is offline
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Join Date: Mar 2019
Posts: 206
 
I sat up in bed
And you were gone.
I could still feel you, tingling
At the edge of consciousness
I was still faintly at peace

But not longer was my breath
In sync with yours
Or my words
Mouthed with your lips
Or my actions
Guided by your hand

Then the doubts began to creep in
What if I, for some reason,
Am never allowed
To be in sync with you again?

"If I can't have it all,
Just give me a taste."
Some would say,
But I desire nothing more
Than to submerge in the ocean
Floating far, far away

But I feel it in my bones,
I know you are still there
Waiting for the moment
When I am most alone and scared

I will try to keep the faith,
I will try to make my way
I am just a woman
What else can I say?
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  #10  
Old 30-03-2019, 06:49 AM
Unseeking Seeker Unseeking Seeker is offline
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Location: Delhi, India
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***

Observe the encircling
spiralling
contraction as doubt
seeking to grout
itself to consciousness
in surreptitiousness
Observe without indulging
without feeding
the ego
which sooner than later best to forgo
The divine connection
is real not imagination
in permanence
if we too Be in childlike innocence

In inner silence of stillness

***
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