The Fire of Faith: a collection of poems on beauty

Part Three

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The fire of faith: a collection of poems on beauty

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

An explanation of part three’s structure…

 

 

 

 

 

“What lies behind us, and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us.”

 

-Ralph waldo emerson

 

 

 

“In the depth of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer.”

 

-Albert Camus

 

 

 

“Cherish your visions; cherish your ideals; cherish the music that stirs in your heart, the beauty that forms in your mind, the loveliness that drapes your purest thoughts, for out of them will grow delightful conditions, all heavenly environment; of these if you but remain true to them, your world will at last be built.”

 

-James Allen

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“The dancing women repeated the song and it began to beat with his heart, mirroring the pounding of its thrusts, streaming with his blood through his veins. As he resisted, he found the desire to carelessly frolic growing upon him; the craving began to consume him. He denied the longing and in doing so he felt his heart ache with pain; it’s will having been stabbed by his stubbornness. Shadows that he had left in the sorrow of the past began to stalk him. Darkness settled itself upon him, pulling a curtain over the sun of his heart. He shook his head in frustration to escape the frightening state. He had finally broken free from those dimmed days that had smothered his soul in darkness; he could never allow himself to go back. He wanted to dance, he needed to dance; the music was becoming a part of him. In refusing the music he was rejecting a part of who he was. So he let the rhythm flow though his body. It started off as light swerving in his arms but soon progressed to vigorous struts and sways as he allowed himself to become one with the beat.

The women started the song for a third time and the lyrics rolled off of his tongue in memorization, released from his throat in perfect tune. Nature joined their song of pleasure. She sent chirping birds to flutter and sing with them.  The winds came, humming softly against his skin. The breeze blew through the trees and chanted their rustling leaves. In letting the music become a part of him, he felt himself becoming one with everything around him. His heart was thriving with nature’s beats just in the way that he had always longed for. He understood that he was finally becoming exactly who he wanted to be. It was beautiful, and for the first time in his life was not afraid to dance wildly.”

 

                                                                                                -Extract from The Duty

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I.

 

Observations in Nature

 

Why don’t people ask the humming bird why it sings?

 

Why don’t people question a bee as it bounces on blossoms?

 

Would you wonder why a squirrel gathers acorns for the winter?

 

Or a bear as it feasts in preparation for hibernation?

 

Would you implore a rainstorm, demanding to know why drops of water fall like thunder?

 

Would you dare to ask a sunset why its colors dance about the sky in soft, shinning pastels?

 

I wish I were a humming bird

so I could sing loud words as I walk down streets

and for a moment not care what others think.

 

I long to be a bee, plowing in my garden,

again and again until I had a basket full of fruits

gathered to the music of bird’s tunes.

 

I beg to be a squirrel so I could twirl with the leaves of trees

and carelessly gather nature’s fruitful wonders

in a cool summer breeze.

 

My body desires to be a bear

so I could escape to where silence rung

and the winds sung in quiet isolation.

 

If only I were a rainstorm, so my rage could cleanse my soul

and my thunder could patrol the Earth

striking lightning with mirth

as it sunk into the dirt.

 

But despite all of these,

I’d give them up to be a sunset

so I could watch people forget darkness

as they marveled at my beauty and oh!

what a perfect duty that would be,

to set souls soaring and free

like how my mind seeks in my dreams

every night as I fall asleep.

 

 

 

 

 

 

II.

 

 

Rise and Then Set

 

For every rise there is a set,

a cry of hope to each lament,

a dry for each wet,

a stab for each peck,

a laugh for each tear,

a fear for each faith,

a face for each mask,

a vast for each chain,

a shine for each rain,

a night for each day,

a red for each grey,

a plane for each maze,

a dislike for each crave,

a cast for each catch,

yes, there is a rise upon every set.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

III.

 

 

Gold Will Always Stay

 

As my eager limbs jump into the tide

I find the riding of a wave to lift my soul in smile,

but the grin of delight soon turns with fright as I fall with its crash-

it’s raging crumble. Static I stood, frowning with the memory

when the waters birthed a new for me to pursue

with greater passion then the last wave the sea had cast.

 

I found my fingers fondling the petals of nature’s sweet flower.

The flames of beauty drew me in,

light leading me from the dim halls I had paced,

but then as with them I played, they began to fall-

fragile leaves plucked…

Sorrow shaded over me, staining me with dusk,

until the seeds of the withered blossom thrust from the dirt,

peaking into the setting of Earth.

A new flower formed, birthed and bathing in the sunlight,

its growth flying with the freedom of a bird’s flight.

 

The raging pumps ringing from the heart of sunrise vibrated in my veins,

painting the horizon with color, revealing secret hidden hues.

The hands of awe drew wonder on my face,

placing me in a state of bliss,

but then the rainbow drifted, drained of its tints, replaced with days blue kiss-

yet just as I begun to miss the pattern of shades,

I felt my skin warm from the sun,

thus I feasted on the fire, laughing with the light that lit the world.

Day dug deeper until the sky shared the treasure of sunset,

and I wept, asking myself how I could be so blessed.

 

So why I wonder, is it said that gold decays?

That it fades from the canvas of earth’s scene

when upon each wither a new light stars to flicker,

sprouting flames that rain their rays brighter then the parent of their seed.

Ever-growing leaves on the branches of life’s tree change from green

only to bathe in gold sparkle, glimmering sporadically across the sky,

leaving one startled as they marvel at the eternal great glow.

For why it has been wise to believe that nothing gold can stay,

for why it has been claimed that this knowledge should frolic in our thoughts

I’ll never know, for I realized on that day that the gift of gold,

nature would never cease to bestow.

 

 

 

 

 

 

IV.

 

The Pond

 

I came to a pond that stood static underneath the sun

where light clung to the water

glistening in soft sparkles like burning charcoal.

 

The sun climbed the morning sky

to lie like a king reigning over meadows,

flowers rested like pillows against the grass,

basking in the beauty of the suns duty.

 

I felt a yearning to be free like the birds

that soared above me,

and so I danced, enhancing the moment

as I pulled off my clothes

to intake the cold of the lake

and I told myself not to be afraid

as I plunged into the wetness of the water.

 

I crashed to the floor of that lake shore

and ignored the shivers that slithered on my skin,

because once I had plunged to the surface

I felt bliss from the warmth that rose above me,

And from the water I could watch the Earth

as the bells of its essence rung

in peaceful lyrics that beat as one with my spirit.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

V.

 

Autoi, Autai, Auta

 

Imagine how the sky would

look if the sunset had one color,

if only one shade colored the ending of the day;

the bay glistening with one tedious tint

before the world was left to drift in darkness.

 

How bland a field of flowers would be

if each blossom were composed of the same petals;

no bushes of roses, or hills of daffodils

dancing in meadows to the song of the wind,

but only mirrors of a plant, a single hue

covering the dreary bottom of dirt.

 

What if there was only one sound to each song?

Long, predictable lyrics beating like the drums of war

until you wished instead for silence,

longing to hear the beauty of your voice,

the ring of your heart, melody of your essence.

 

Where would we go if there was only one road?

What would a name be if we were all given the same?

Do not feel angst by this thought though,

For our home is a rainbow,

no like fragments, a new adventure,

a fresh sublime sight to sooth your eyes

upon each sunrise as it’s birthed into the sky.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

VI.

 

Beats of Life’s Heart

 

The tears of spring birthed a planted seed,

pulling it from the dirt like a stream

nibbling at the banks of its skin.

The stem had its first dance with the wind,

it kissed the rays of the sun,

hands felt the warm flesh of grass,

the music of birds licked the stem’s soul

in song, quenching the thirst.

 

But the song was soon silenced by the strike of thunder,

the lips of the sun were chapped by raging clouds,

the wind began a dance too wild,

lightning stabbed the sky,

rain poured from the wounds,

dripping down the body of the horizon,

splattering, staining the floor of Earth.

 

The stem laid chained to the beds of soil

repeatedly slapped and struck by crashing drops,

until finally its heart cried, cursing life,

wondering why in this state it was stuck,

but upon longing to retreat back into it’s seeded cocoon,

the breath of time dried the sky’s wounds.

 

Sunlight poured from the mouth of air like wine,

its pores became drunk,

tingling from the happiness of intoxication.

When the wind asked the stem for a new dance

upon reaching for its hand,

the plant found that it had grown petals;

they sparkled with hues softer then the suns lips-

the blossom wasted no time; it sent its limbs soaring,

swaying its soul to the song of itself.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

VII.

 

Birth

 

I had listened to the wolves cry

to the dim light of the moon

more then I had listened to the birds sing

as their music sent me dancing in my dreams.

 

I had watched the sun set

more often then I had seen it rise

restlessly raining red, painting the sky.

 

I once saw the world as dead;           

I watched it die more often

then I had looked at a sky and felt alive.

 

I had never seen a bird fly,

but I had watched autumn leaves fall

down halls of wind, disappearing

into tunnels of dim light.

 

My heart had yet to beat with passion,

but I felt detachment from the Earth,

like my feet didn’t belong on the dirt.

 

I was a part of a herd, a cow licking blades

of grass in balding pastures as I saw horses

glide out in the open while I cowardly crouched

and hid beneath the fences of that field.

 

I set sail from the shores of nature,

fleeing to the island of darkness,

but then Earth cast a storm, sinking my ship,

causing me to retreat back to her floor.

I struggled to place my feet upon the sand;

Learning to appreciate each breath I took.

 

My soul then told me-

“Embrace the grace of the grass,

play with the petals that have settled into the soil

for they toiled against storms to glimmer

with natures light, flickering from each beat of its pulse.

It won’t always be here for you to hold dear,

So cling to the flame of the exquisite without shame.”

 

I drew the curtains from my heart.

Time was ticking quickly,

The trees were fleeing right before me.

I wanted to hold onto the world forever

And never forget the tints that glinted

Like the sun against pale snow in a soothing glow.

Reviews

[Michael Todd]

Exceptional work. I love the way you have the page set up also.