Thursday, 28 September 2017

One more new one

Psyche tou Kosmou:
(The soul of the world)

For me, it can be an apple
hanging from the branch, transcendent globe, heavenly orb
that transports me to the here and now.
I see the worm, sense the push of flesh against skin
feel the sun burning green to red
even, if the day is clear, the mind too,
the sound of roots expanding;
gripping the earth, holding it in place and further still
I travel without moving, transfixed,
until the aos sí come walking past
or daemons flick at my hair;
I hear the singing of the people of the mounds
wander into the world of the dead
always here and seldom found,
rest for a time in that place where the real is sound
and light and most of all, it is imagination
ground in the space both in and out

the mind

I expand and contract
breath and do not
shout so loud I find silence
and in that shadow that is sunlight
I touch, even for a moment that lasts a year
the soul of the world
which waits for me even as I leave.

1 comment:

  1. Lovely. The transition from the real to the imagined world merges almost imperceptible.