Wednesday, February 06, 2008

Poems come to my life

I have recently watched "What the Bleep Do We Know" and "The Secret". There are many elements of truth, I think, reading within the graphics. Also, a book which fell into my hands, Chopra's How To Know God. Brilliant. And here is more of spirit, one from Herman Hesse, and one from my late aunt, found in her papers. Both speak, I think, to my poetic preoccupations: spiritual growth and how it connects with our unity. Pictured, my cousins (two of Hope's children) and an extended member of the family.

by Hermann Hesse

As every flower fades and as all youth

Departs, so life at every stage,

So every virtue, so our grasp of truth,
Blooms in its day and may not last forever.
Since life may summon us at every age

Be ready, heart, for parting, new endeavor,

Be ready bravely and without remorse

To find new light that old ties cannot give.

In all beginnings dwells a magic force

For guarding us and helping us to live.

Serenely let us move to distant places

And let no sentiments of home detain us.
The Cosmic Spirit seeks not to restrain us
But lifts us stage by stage to wider spaces.
If we accept a home of our own making,

Familiar habit makes for indolence.

We must prepare for parting and leave-taking

Or else remain the slaves of permanence.
Even the hour of our death may send Us
speeding on to fresh and newer spaces,

And life may summon us to newer races.
o be it, heart: bid farewell without end.

The Blanket
By Hope (Babe) Halsted Hubbert
November 21, 1974

The Blanket of love, so warm and clean

Wipes away the past – which never should have been

Taking with it - the bitter hurts
Cleaning up - that pile of dirt

Brightening the future, so beautifully bare

By telling the past – it was never there

Shortening the memory, from day to day

So the Blanket of love, can have her way.

The Blanket of love, can have no pride

Not even one corner of self, to hide

It opens itself to everyone
Where the truth of tomorrow, has just begun.

The demon of self, lays, covered with dust

The Blanket of love, cleans off all that rust

Forgiving – what was yesterday

So the Blanket of love, can have her way.

Taking the hurts – yet to be born

Covering them up, so cosy and warm

It cannot remember – it always forgets
And kills the memory, of all our regrets.
This sin covering Blanket, has a wonderful art
It can put life together, or take it apart
Exquisitely sketching a pattern sublime

From out of the realm, of spaceless time

Like painting a picture, with an artful brush

And tossing the clouds, into a sunset’s blush

Inking the clouds, and deepening the night

Molding the future, by putting things right

Removing the pieces, that should have been better

And fading them out, forever and ever.

Such a warm lilting Blanket, giving new birth

Kissing with love, like nothing on earth
Humming a song, that is wholesomely plain

And chanting our thoughts, toward heaven again.

This Blanket of love, is holding the key

To smother the monster of self, within me

Wooing it gently, as never before

Disarming the heart, and unlocking the door

Soaring the spirit, as high as a kite
Capturing with love, and giving new sight

Like bursting the “Milkweed” that is ready to bloom
Tearing it open, to give it more room

Removing the miserable self, from the Pod

And leaving the heart full, of nothing but God.

Rest in peace, lovely Aunt.