A sailor's prayer

The Navigator

 

Re-calibrate me, Holy One.

Set the focus of my heart

Against the compass of your love,

Aligning thoughts and deeds

To your divine direction.

Fill the tattered sails of my existence

With your Spirit breath,

Blowing where you will.

Take me to transforming shores

Where shoals await

Your gathering.

And some day,

When the task is done,

Steer me within the haven of your heart.

For Alex

28^th June 2014

B. I. Hartless

DAWN ON EASTER MORNING

The light broke, thin-rimmed, over the empty hill's horizon,

Flooding quickly through the moisture-laden trees.


Alchemilla leaf after rain.  Beren Hartless

The night rain dewdrop lingered
In the grey-green Alchemilla chalices.
Even the skies had wept, dark in desolation,
As creation staggered, and the sun grew dim.
Tree and garden waited,
Bursting buds still, as if with frost,
Carrying their load of tears.
No wind whisper in the sombre cypresses,
No Spirit breath.
All birdsong silenced in the growing dawn.

But with the light,
Gold-streaked,
Expanding, rhapsody enhanced,
The ecstatic air knew once again
Its jewelled source;
Glittering in a thousand crystal drops,
Dancing in the rainbow pools,
It sang its fragrance to the waiting thrush,
Who joyously called out
Her triumph song:
"Glory,
He is risen!"

This Spring has seen

The final passing over of the Angel of Eternal Death
For those the Lamb has won.

 B.I.Hartless

SONATA

The raw edges of her frayed mind

Hesitantly touched
The mellow cadences;

No vast emotional irruptions stirred.

Gradually, with gratitude, she rested,
As the gentle swathe of music
Stroked her mind with silk.

B.I.Hartless

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