Lit from within

Walking the garden this beautiful morning I felt the urge to share with you what I saw.


It seemed lit from within
Lit by love
and by the sun above,
As it shared its nectar
with bees and butterfly,


Its brightness and fragility
shining with joy and love,
Stream of healing flow.


Bursting with life,
bright as the sun;
telling us to fill
our shadows with light.


Next I chatted with Mr Blackbird,
so proudly showing off
a beak filled with worms;
Dinner for the family.

I told him he was handsome
and clever too;
He nodded his head vigorously,
losing one worm.

Please join me now for a drink,
sitting among them all,
Not even meditating;
Just breathe.


Hand in Hand



Hand in Hand

Through reading so many of your wonderful posts I have learnt
that the dream of travel and new experiences live strongly within
so many of us.
I feel comforted by this as at times I wondered if I really was a
nomad by birth. Seriously though, be it by air, by ship, by train,
the excitement is there like a fire within.

Travel experiences have changed though and today we have to exercise
a lot of meditative calm to go through our overcrowded airports.
I find them quite stressful and without going within myself in quiet
I believe the stress would be intolerable. However, the goals have so
far made up for the discomfort.

This leads to people watching which is a great source of learning and
at times entertainment. Images and conversations linger and might
later turn into writing.

The poem Hand in Hand comes from just walking the long way from the the plane to customs. A feeling that still lingers. The rest is from places I have been and that have given inspiration.


Hand in Hand

Come and walk at dusk
with me,
I whispered to you.
Let us watch the rising moon
stars and planets light the sky.

The day before I had seen
a couple walking, hand in hand;
Through long corridors
among crowds of an Airport,

In steady, comforting pace
They walked.

In a bubble of peace.

As you and I walk 
along the ocean shore,
Hand in hand, not saying much;
Just listening, feeling, being,
In tune with waves, heavens
With the Whole.

Humbly we accept this Gift
of plenty.
Undeserved perhaps,
Who is judge?

We turn to each other,
eyes bright,
joy bursting forth.

With light steps we return
to a drink on the porch.
Wanting to share the reverence
that fills us both.

Spreading ripples of wonder and serenity.

© miriam ivarson

in clouds