Meteora


The Stolen Child W. B. Yeats –  Where dips the rocky highland Of Sleuth Wood in the lake, There lies a leafy island Where flapping herons wake The drowsy water rats; There we’ve hid our faery vats, Full of berrys And of reddest stolen cherries. Come away, O human child! To the waters and the wild With a faery, hand in hand, For the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand. Where the wave of moonlight glosses The dim gray sands with light, Far off by furthest Rosses We foot it all the night, Weaving olden dances Mingling … Continue reading Meteora

And the people stayed home


  And the people stayed home. And read books, and listened, and rested, and exercised, and made art, and played games, and learned new ways of being, and were still. And listened more deeply. Some meditated, some prayed, some danced. Some met their shadows. And the people began to think differently. And the people healed. And, in the absence of people living in ignorant, dangerous, mindless, and heartless ways, the earth began to heal. And when the danger passed, and the people joined together again, they grieved their losses, and made new choices, and dreamed new images, and created new … Continue reading And the people stayed home

The Clown Sees Clearest


The Clown Sees Clearest By Martin Hanley The clown sees clearest the hidden flaw with a sense of knowing like a ticking clock. Burning embers ignite a raging fire as towering walls come closing in. The iridescent sun flower climbs high, cursing the gathering clouds. On the cold grey ground it forever lays its dark shadow bare. We’re floating on an ocean of happiness yet deep beneath us are depths never constant nor still. For success is times waning blossom; her flowering petals were faded to begin. Where passion and beauty spread their wings is special; caught in a dreamlike … Continue reading The Clown Sees Clearest