Art – Matt Chambliss
Loved playing with my boys and Mr. Chuck King.
Art – Matt Chambliss
Music – A Thousand Years (Piano/Cello Cover) – The Piano Guys
I dreamed that I was awake
Or perhaps I was awake yet slumbering
Consciousness in flux somewhere between the two
I know what is real, I know the difference
I can feel it
There is substance and passion and depth and sweet rest my reward
I can breathe there
But sometimes reality manifests itself in one and then the other as it wills
So who is to say what is dreaming and what is wakefulness
The Real is not tethered to the narrow realm of the senses
It gives allegiance to none, for there are many ways of knowing
How close is a thousand miles
It seemed as if I could have reached out and touched you
But you were a thousand miles away
What is the distance between this breath and my next
A step or two, feet, inches, seconds, the measurement is irrelevant
So close, yet thousand miles away
I felt you walk into my dream
I felt your presence before I turned, before I heard the voices
I sensed the singular form of you so the sight did not surprise me
Because I can sense you from a thousand miles away
How is it that I can inhale the fragrance of you, hear your voice in my dreams
I felt your glance on my back like a touch reaching out, a kiss on my neck
But there was a gulf between that would not be bridged, a guardian watchful
Polite, familiar chit chat for a second of a second
I could not find your eyes
So close yet a thousand miles away
I felt you leaving and I turned to watch you go
My observation hidden behind the tinted veil
I watched you walk into another dream that was a thousand miles away
Then, at the last instant, the final frantic moment you turned
I saw your eyes seeking me, trying to pierce the darkened glass
I recognized and reached out from the shadows
I was close, but hidden, and a thousand miles away
So, I will write to remember, I will write to say
What it’s like to feel your warmth
From a thousand miles away
Good morning my Soul, my Beloved
I have a question for you
It was put to me, now I lay it at Your beautiful feet
In quiet expectation and trust I await Your response
From my lips to Your heart I cast it
“What is the difference?”
Does it matter
What does it mean
And like a pebble it breaks the surface of the Deep
Fluttering, slowly sinking, falling into the silent Unknown
Quiet, unmoving I remain
The surface of the water now still, a mirror
I gaze un-blinking into Her eyes
Green, brown, and golden windows
Falling like the pebble I sink into the Unknowing
Silence . . . Senses forsaken
“Nothing . . . and Everything,” She says
You have given all and you have also received back
Yet I needed not
You have scaled the heights of the exquisite and ridden on its golden light
And you have been flayed and spilled out by grief too terrible for words
But I am here
You have sought Me in exotic far off places and the adventure it brought
Even in the familiar paths within your reach your steps sought Me out
I never moved
You have dreamed, and built, and created magical things
And you have seen it all laid low in the dust
Yet I remain
You have chased the ancient knowledge, gathering together secrets of the Ages
But in the end only learned of your ignorance
I have watched it all
You ask what is the difference
I tell you there is none
The meaning you seek is fleeting like the Spring flowers
What matters is still beyond your comprehension
You ask what is the difference
I tell you all is changed
You have come to Me
You now sit by My still waters
You know the I Am
We are and shall ever be – One
So go my Love, seek, climb, create, and learn
Explore the world of the senses, the playground of the body and the mind
Thrill yourself with new adventure, people, and places
Walk the barren paths of solitude and grief
Exult in your victories and feel the pain of your failure
Fear not, cast it away from you
You are mine and I am Yours
My Love for you is all that has ever really mattered
Like soupy handfuls of river mud
Slung against a wall
My words splatter and spread
And slide to the floor
Fragrant, dark, and heavy loam
I feel the coarse silkiness between my fingers
There is something in the mix
But it refuses to hold a shape
Rather, my words form the banks
And contain the currents flowing through me
Fertile, deep, cool, and rich with promise
Yet they dissipate and have no force if removed from the flow
So for now, toes dug deeply into the ooze
I will sit and listen to the water
And the frogs and the buzz of my River
Playing in the mud and making mudpies
Some times it’s just like that
Perhaps it is that when one feels washed overboard, afraid, exhausted, and without a raft there is something in the depths of grace for us there. Perhaps the raft is what keeps us from knowing. Blessings, sweetness, and understanding that you are not alone.
Whatever flavor of spirituality that you may tend toward there is a depth and beauty in this. All poetry is metaphor anyway. Hold them lightly or risk their death. Where there is beauty there is the perfume of truth. It resonated with my soul from that place in me that is too deep for words. It allowed me to weep. That is a good gift for a hardened sometimes stupid man like me. 🙂 Maybe my chakra thingy is better for it. Blessings on your quest for the One who is beyond all metaphor.