Denouement

 

Your eyes wander now,

With someone else,

Wishing.

I exist now only,

In the faces,

Of others,

Because you remember.

Your restless body gives it away,

Along with the dreams,

Which keep you awake at night.

I am no longer here,

And you no longer know,

And so we are even.

Denouement was never ours,

My love.

When

 

Dark grey clouds arise to mar the morning sun,

Joining up antiquity, 

To wed the mist and sun,

as one.

What brings us down upon our knees,

A moment in our soul.

Along a beam of peace,

Brings forth no ray of malice,

A word of prayer offered,

To our lips, 

A silver chalice.

Linking time by threads of fabric,

Unraveling at seams,

Yet by these beams,

A cavalry of hope to souls?

For in that golden hour,

are moments, captured,

to remember,

as waning buds join late September.

Such moments are but few,

Yet wisdom seeks the golden stems,

As rare as crystal orbs,  

 that form the morning dew.

When all of these and more,

Form footsteps on a distant shore,

Granting mercy to the meek,

Filling vessels that we seek,

Within that golden moment,

When transforms to now.

  

Grad Studies Suck the life out of you…

 

 Well, much to my horror, I see it has been over a week since I last posted. Since then I have had to live through a computer crash that nearly demolished my hard-earned research material and essay’s that I have spent hours, days and weeks to write. Without extensions provided by a few prof’s I am not sure the light at the end of the tunnel would have illuminated any light on the papers I am so busily filling with words. It has been a royal stuggle to finish my Master’s degree and I am no where near the actual end. But still I battle on…

It becomes a daily trial against time and patience. Hours and days are spent inside my “dungeon”. A 10 by 12 foot space that rarely sees the light of day. It might be the sunniest Sydney day outside but I would never know it from my dark room that has become my permanent residence. My diet has descended into “cookies, tea, candies and chocolate”. I get to sample carbohydrates represented in every refined carbohydrate group. Whatever takes the least amount of time goes into my mouth. Oy Vey.

 There is no vending machine that has missed my visit in the last week; often been raided at four in the morning. I have begun to lose weight as food becomes the least of my worries. I have become a virtual recluse. At times I have thought I would not be able to come up with what is expected. The papers at times seem endless and most unkind to write.  It feels as though I am pulling a rabbit out of the hat. Yet still I struggle on.

But still there is a light at the end of the tunnel. I have two presentations and one essay left and then I will have fulfilled the requirements of a Master’s degree at the University of New South Wales. It has been a long personal and psychological battle to reach the end. But nothing worthwhile is easy and so I struggle on knowing that it will be worth the effort and pain.

It is with these thoughts that I write “Metamorphosis”. The beauty of a butterfly begins in the dark and unforgiving world of the soil. There it is dark and quiet. The butterfly larva is the embodiment of what is ungraceful. It is helpless, blind and vulnerable. And yet a transformation takes place in the soil. The blind and helpless larva transforms itself from the safety of its cocoon into a beautiful creature with wings. And it is these wings that enable it to take flight.  

And by flight it finds freedom. There is a message in that transformation. The possible exists from the impossible. Beauty can exist from even the most unlikeliest of sources. Never give up hope as all things are possible. The miraculous transformation of the butterfly is a metaphor for life. Which is probably why I am so fascinated by butterflies…The world is indeed a mysterious place.

  

 

There are flowers

 

 

 

Restless as a honey bee,

You gather on your legs for me,

A pollen sweet and oh so rare,

The gift of life for us to share.

 

And from the flower to the vine,

You pour a nectar sweet as wine,

And place against my open lip,

Crimson drops for me to sip.

 

For you have flown across the land,

To place these flowers in my hand,

And begged for me to hold them tight,

Whispering into the night,  

 

Hold on, hold on,

Do not let go!

For what we reap,

We also sow,

And in this secret that is life,

Come flowers from the pain and strife,

 

Beautiful beyond compare,

Like life itself,

So rare, so rare.