To my Muse
There is a current, a flow of power, which beckons, asks to be found.
From the earliest age of the dawning of reason, it asks to be heard.
Alone in a wild garden, a little boy caught the drift of it.
It came from a crystalline heart. It showed itself in my throat in the form of a tune voiced into my solitude. A solitude for the first time become great with meaning.
The melody is always the same. It is a grand, a grandiose orchestral pursuit. Cathedrals, temples, chambers of the heart can hardly contain its sacred theme.
The riff I sang matched the mood of this boy. I later went into the house and sang it to my Mother. She made a motherly nice comment.
As a young man, I began to recognise parts of this homespun improvisation in the music of others, and I knew myself to be a part of a common harmony – a pixel of humanity.
I never fully remember it. I never developed it into a memorisable form. I kept it private, my ‘plaint’, my ‘keening’ for my unknown, hurting, longing heart.
Today I sprout in these lonely lines this remembered memory of memory, and the flame of its flower is a visible wonder to me, father to myself.
Exactly like the passage of a rainbow, it beckons to the senses. It will never be captured.
The bass notes inflame, while the melody maddens like the sempiternel arch-old songs of the Sirens.
This is a sacred music, which can only be bashfully reflected in the performance of various forms – poetry, dance, painting, sculpture.
The more ephemeral is our way of reflecting the force of its current, the closer we come to tap into and draw purpose and courage from its strength. It is all mystery and achingly longed-for strength.
The presence of strength; the strength of presence. This is a reflection of the power of the eternal present
~ Love is present EveryNow