ziggurat's blog

. . . and three cheers for recognizing the cultural plurality of angelic and spiritual archetypes that we choose to invest ourselves within, as they will undoubtedly -- and reciprocally -- comport themselves according to our intentions. - Zig

This poem is re-posted by request. I am honored if somebody takes some solace or nourishment from it ~

-Ziggurat

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driftwood / rockhaven

1.

The telling was like this:

Each breath came lightly. None was too much.
An equanimity, lessons came but quickly.

I was one then, at peace. But new surprises rained in:

Hello fellow souls,

Soaking in the bathtub last night, I came across this wonderful quote. I want to share it because it resonates with me, and maybe it will resonate with you too:

"If you feel unhappy, but don't mind feeling that way, how would you then feel?"

love,

Ziggurat

I would like to commend the members of this portal for sharing from their hearts and giving such wonderful support to me, and to each other. I find this a difficult time, but also greatly rewarding in other, some unforeseen ways. As the discovery of this community, for example. I wish each and every one of you to shine brightly, regardless of your current, earthly circumstances.

I shall write something from my heart today, because I am compelled to:

I feel that there is something dying inside, and this brings a great leap of sorrow and bliss. It is terrifying and lonely, it is a great blow to my ego, who wants everything to stay tenable, to remain constant. It is changing, friends. What can I say, my little, pathetic construct is dying, and there is a great, hollow space that inflates beyond what I thought possible. I am afraid to grow into it. It is there, waiting for me. I want to grow into this gigantic spacesuit, like a billowing dream, because at present it feels like a dream. Yet it is as real as the heavens, that is where it resides, this dream, and the heavens begin to descend into this realm. This planet is fraught with tensions, much of the universe is as well, yet there is immense strength and magnitude pouring forth. If I choose to partake, such bounty awaits me. What am I to do? Such sorrow, such gratitude; choices loom, seem forever wafting and shifting. What am I now? Changes, a shaft of light, plentitude, solitude. Loss. Gain. Shift . . .

driftwood / rockhaven

I.

The telling was like this:

Each breath came lightly. None was too much.
An equanimity, lessons came but quickly.

I was one then, at peace. But new surprises rained in:

Leaves clumped, damp. Clodden earth. Mossed bark.
Burdens swallowed whole.

Enter, exit, the night impels a latent discovery.
Cornhusks of time, wounds alighting.

Can there be nothing but joy, hands molding clay,
fingers’ light touch fluid, forgiving. Partition worlds
as they appear, one by one, glistening with dew.

Your small voice slipped through. Was it a touch
of grace, tender petal against cheek, so slight?

Were you there with me just now, or simply a spark
of my mind, the same and one, all alike?

We are but present now, dropped from the world’s spin.
We are but one in our momentary glimpses.

Please come when you can. Your dinner’s getting cold.
And please, when you arrive: let the cat out.