Upon seeing this image, a special wish is granted by the Universe especially for you.
Sunday, January 4, 2015
Tuesday, November 18, 2014
Love Story
In Love, I am the
mountain,
Broody, insurmountable,
surrounded by the sea.
A mystery, everyone
says, what fortunate soul might conquer her?
Who would dare?
Truth be told, dying to
be overwhelmed, I softened my edges, allowed pride to crumble.
I became vulnerable,
ready, willing to be worn down by the sea, as is right.
Alas, exposed, below
me, my conqueror did not rise.
My Sea, my lover,
remained unstirred –
Uniformly void of
spume, of thunderous roar - of obsession.
Like a glass eye
viewing a masterpiece, he was equally oblivious to me.
Behold, how even my
shadow lays listless upon him, could he not, at the very least, stir
that!
I ask, O Lover, where
is your passion?
Where is your desire to
drag me beneath you!
Curse your
tranquillity!
If still waters run
deep, then I declare you fathomless!
Sailors call you
traitor!
The wind grows tired of
you!
And so do I!
O how you have brought
the lofty low.
Made miserable with the
longing to be wanted.
Why do you stay if you
have no desire to take?
What storms have
forgotten you in my wake?
Abandoned you to my
shores!
I, the Mountain, it
seems, must crumble down into your depths and carry you away!
Why is it that I must
hammer against you!
Its not fair!
Its shameful!
O Sea, why don't you
beat against me, consume me, drag me beneath you.
Like the other waters
do, to the other mountains.
Leave me dry!
Leave me be!
But do not leave me to
beat myself to sand.
Do not have me reduce
myself to sparkles on a distant shore.
Its your duty done,
yes, well executed to be sure, but far from the bard's pretty
telling.
That is too cruel,
even for you.
Salty, demon!
Made of my tears.
Why don't you want me?
O where is your
passion?
I ask and I ask again,
but you never answer!
Questions with no
answers become riddles!
In love, I am the
mountain,
Unwanted! Abandoned!
Tormented!
A curse upon you! To
heck with it!
I shall ask instead:
Why do you stay?
True and steady as a
clear blue sky, as close to me as the wind on my face,
holding my shadow.
Embracing me, where I
touch you.
Because you love me?
Because you hate me?
Or is it sad mistake
that leaves you lapping eternally at my stones?
By Jaymee Bennett
Friday, November 14, 2014
A Rose by Any Other Name
Be watchful of the
naming of things.
Word has power.
To take away, or make.
Like love!
The nameless manifested it, yet we dared name it.
Context lost!
Love! Here it is! Found!
Struck off its branch; an apple ripe for its first bite.
Yet, what we hold in our hand, is no longer that which grew on the tree.
No longer that which God knew.
Become now, a mystery to all.
Only we don't see it!
Blissfully ignorant to the facsimile made.
We turn it over, feel it in the palm – apple, apple, apple, we say – understood, catalogued, yet failure to see, that the fruit is now limited.
Blinded in understanding, the mystery is lost to the sweetness of the taste of apple.
Become sweetness and crunch, it can no longer grow beyond our comprehension.
Woe to you! Better that you had left it as presented! As offered!
How bold, how presumptuous! To declare the name of another’s offspring?
When meeting for the first time, is the finger pointed and one stranger declared by the other as to who he is?
Would it not, that we had waited for the stranger to reveal their own name! Would we not know him better then?
If we have named everything, and nothing named by itself, or its creator, how can it be, that we can claim knowledge of it?
A universe of mysteries transformed, lost, in becoming known.
God!
We have named him too, but ask, has he named himself?
He did not name his creations, created in his image. We named them!
That which another meticulously dreamt up, purposely fashioned, placed, yet, belovedly, limitlessly, left unnamed.
We named.
An artist's craftsmanship mistaken for indifference, an oversight, an omission, or at best the gift of freewill.
Such is the faith we place in the institution of naming and and being named.
Of claiming.
Listen! Take care if you would behold the truth!
Unname that which you have labelled!
Renounce your titles!
Seek no longer its name, rather, seek its entirety, its fluidity, the context of your first experience with it.
And for heaven's sake, ask yourself, what is apple?
Or better yet, what is Love?
Word has power.
To take away, or make.
Like love!
The nameless manifested it, yet we dared name it.
Context lost!
Love! Here it is! Found!
Struck off its branch; an apple ripe for its first bite.
Yet, what we hold in our hand, is no longer that which grew on the tree.
No longer that which God knew.
Become now, a mystery to all.
Only we don't see it!
Blissfully ignorant to the facsimile made.
We turn it over, feel it in the palm – apple, apple, apple, we say – understood, catalogued, yet failure to see, that the fruit is now limited.
Blinded in understanding, the mystery is lost to the sweetness of the taste of apple.
Become sweetness and crunch, it can no longer grow beyond our comprehension.
Woe to you! Better that you had left it as presented! As offered!
How bold, how presumptuous! To declare the name of another’s offspring?
When meeting for the first time, is the finger pointed and one stranger declared by the other as to who he is?
Would it not, that we had waited for the stranger to reveal their own name! Would we not know him better then?
If we have named everything, and nothing named by itself, or its creator, how can it be, that we can claim knowledge of it?
A universe of mysteries transformed, lost, in becoming known.
God!
We have named him too, but ask, has he named himself?
He did not name his creations, created in his image. We named them!
That which another meticulously dreamt up, purposely fashioned, placed, yet, belovedly, limitlessly, left unnamed.
We named.
An artist's craftsmanship mistaken for indifference, an oversight, an omission, or at best the gift of freewill.
Such is the faith we place in the institution of naming and and being named.
Of claiming.
Listen! Take care if you would behold the truth!
Unname that which you have labelled!
Renounce your titles!
Seek no longer its name, rather, seek its entirety, its fluidity, the context of your first experience with it.
And for heaven's sake, ask yourself, what is apple?
Or better yet, what is Love?
By Jaymee Bennett
Wednesday, November 12, 2014
Something out of Nothing
How can something appear from nothing?
There is no ink here.
No page to write upon.
No place in existence where this message is.
But yet?
Here it is, beneath your eyes.
In your brain.
Gift from Google!
Creation works the same.
No blocks.
No space.
Search unlimited!
There is no ink here.
No page to write upon.
No place in existence where this message is.
But yet?
Here it is, beneath your eyes.
In your brain.
Gift from Google!
Creation works the same.
No blocks.
No space.
Search unlimited!
Monday, November 10, 2014
The Hammer – A Poem for The Light
O, Let the sparks fly!
Set ablaze, that’s
how I can best describe it.
with faith,
with trust,
with grace,
As the Hand of Saint
Michael – Five Pointed Star, raises me up and strikes me down,
forcing form, striking sparks.
From what? I do not
know.
To what end? I do not
know.
How does it begin? Now,
that I know.
It begins with faith.
It beings with trust.
It begins with grace.
Oh, and with sincerity!
As bright as sunlight
and deep as shadows.
That’s how it begins.
Sunday, November 2, 2014
The Oak Tree
A mighty wind blew night and day.
It stole the oak tree's leaves away,
Then snapped its bark
until the oak was tired and stark.
But still the oak tree held its ground
while other trees feel all around....
The weary wind gave up and spoke,
"How can you still be standing, Oak?"
The oak tree said, "I know that you
can break each branch of mine in two,
carry every leaf away,
shake my limbs, and make me sway.
But I have roots stretched in the earth,
growing stronger since my birth.
You'll never touch them, for you see,
they are the deepest part of me.
Until today, I wasn't sure
of just how much I could endure.
But now I've found, with thanks to you,
I"m stronger that I ever knew.
It stole the oak tree's leaves away,
Then snapped its bark
until the oak was tired and stark.
But still the oak tree held its ground
while other trees feel all around....
The weary wind gave up and spoke,
"How can you still be standing, Oak?"
The oak tree said, "I know that you
can break each branch of mine in two,
carry every leaf away,
shake my limbs, and make me sway.
But I have roots stretched in the earth,
growing stronger since my birth.
You'll never touch them, for you see,
they are the deepest part of me.
Until today, I wasn't sure
of just how much I could endure.
But now I've found, with thanks to you,
I"m stronger that I ever knew.
Saturday, November 1, 2014
The Welcoming of The Jewel in the Crown
Words I choose you
carefully – stones to build with.
The hammer of a grace
filled heart to guide me, I set my tools against the page.
No page at all, in
reality, but a place in creation.
Here, now I write the
words:
A dark purple stone
joyous with light emerges.
It rests in my hands,
my fingers spread wide to cup its form, above the ebb and flow of the
eternal sea.
A being of beauty, of
love, created for all to look upon, I name her – Jewel in the Crown.
A thousand thousand
angels come with purple wings to admire the beautiful thing, to enjoy
her creation.
Source is with us, a
spiral of blessings.
For the light, for the
joy, for the love, for the wonder.
Oh how wondrous, the
ability to create, to share!
To bring forth from the
light, more light!
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