Aftermath

Cathedral steps, Amalfi taken by Beren Hartless

AFTERMATH

The innocent heart waits silently,

Patiently expecting the downflow of glory,
Like parched earth longing for the rain.
 
Stand aside a while from the stone steps
Where passing crowds jostle,
Busily climbing up and down,
Preoccupied with urgent errands,
Rarely more than distantly aware of loss.

Watch, and in the waiting,

Like the thirsty ground, drink
Deeply from the source of being.

B.I.Hartless

Living water: epitaph for a canon

There is a far lake over which the death mist curls.
Its sombre pewter patina refuses to reflect the living world.
God knows the deep grief buried there, in shifting swathes,
Tear-locked in hidden solitude long darkened as the grave.

Only a heron lightly stirs the flattened wastes,
Leaving unmoved, beneath, the frozen time-warp shales,
Folded in Lethe's seeping molecules of liquid ice,
Buried in clay-formed catacombs of undivided nights.

Late with regrets for silver words that were not said,
The unsailed water, filled with chronic unseen dread,
Catches the wind of unconscious God-ward longing thoughts,
Immersing and holding strong pain's unforgiving last retort.

Released from futile, sterile words and silken lies,
From the deep waters of the divided heart and saddened mind,
Set free to join the call of heaven's soaring bell,
And wake, washed clean beside the Lamb's eternal well.

B. I. Hartless

Lake at moonrise, Tyberton taken by Beren Hartless

Exploration

Castell Koch taken by Beren Hartless

EXPLORATION

Looking back through picture books of memory,

The childhood fairy tales emerge
In monochrome
And gentle colour tint.

The mystery of archetypal symbols in the mind

Was written deep in fantasies
Of chivalry
And supernatural beings.

The numinous was subtly tapped, and contact made,

Intuitive and mystical,
Awakening
To spiritual reality.

A secret place began to form, to open and unfold,

A centre to explore, to sense
The depths of God
Within, and all around.

 B.I. Hartless 



Side Effect

SIDE-EFFECT

God,
In darkness yet created
With the morning,
Textured, vast and silent;

A paradox of space inhabited
By Presence.

B.I. Hartless

The Gift

THE GIFT

Sparkling joy

Dust sprinkled

On the dial of time

Falls freely through eternity;

Lightly touching,

For a moment, lingering -

Then softly

Moving on.

B. I. Hartless