Listen 30[1]

Listen 30

Listen Listen to thy heart For in the listening lies The silence Silence of the universe unfolding-stars exploding, collapsing Time Sopped

Frozen Below absolute zero Hour There is no Second Coming Towards you Whispering Sweet nothings In your ear Waiting Awaiting The weighted silence Of absolute being Alive Listening

To the universe Within The beating Of your heart Your breath Sharing The universal expectations Of happiness Flowing With he river of time Towards the ocean of love Merging With the coming Together To make one Another Time Tasted In a garden Before the fall

Listen And in listening seek Thyself For ‘tis in thee That the truth Is alive For thy skin Is impermeable And thou arte Part of the universe Breathing In And out In And out Breathing Partaking of the reflection Cast By the shadow of time Upon the cross Between two Thieves One of whom Was to know The Kingdom of God Before His body be broken In token Of the time Taken With the bread And the wine At the last supper shared In an upper room Far From the authorities Who were waiting For the news Of insurrection To spread From Galilee To Baghdad

Whilst three wise men Wandered, whilst they wondered, Slipping as the silent sand dunes rose And fell Whilst the sun burnt down dazzling heat-waves Rose And fell As their camels Bore the burden The travellers moved on Retracing footsteps followed Seeking shelter and water In the hostile desert Storm Which raised, as it raged, about them Words were shed Like snake skins The blood flowed Read As the word was Transposed In the transportation back upon the backs Of rising And falling Sand dunes encircling the motion Of the camel train Of thought which fled Back Over the rising And falling Silently slipping sand Dunes beneath the beating sun Back Into the beginning of the journey Beyond memory borne myth Moulded the mystery marvelled Onwards the wise men meandered As they wondered and pondered Through Persia Through the land where Rumi Was to spin And turn In ecstatic union In a whirl Wind of love Which blew In the wind which wound Through the streets and alleyways of Time forgot To tell the tale they told Of the events which had begun

To unfold Like a lotus flower upon the hidden moon-clad hour of silk spun by the worm in China Which was on the Silk road to run the path to tread from East to West and back The camels strode upon the sand blown silk road Whilst the crescent moon grew in vain Shedding reflections upon the pool black oasis flanked by palm trees And cacti which grew In the desert which knew Once it had been a marsh Of mangroves, where crocodiles of the Nile which when in times of flood had swam beneath the surface known to man to be speared, not spared nor endeared, unlike two fish caught by fishers of men taught by the spirit of the word which aught to blow in the wind blown snow storm in the desert sands where missiles glow before they blow up in the wind with the words which sew up the story the wise men heard from a fourth who limped to wait upon a three-legged stool on a hill beyond a city gate and wall outcaste alone yet exercising still free-will to choose the path to use in the time to fuse for can it be that the events which unfolded in history tolled in the price borne to be paid unfold this day, this hour, as the Lotus flower frees the flow of love which leaves the healing leaves of love which grow in a garden which all children know to be

encircled by the Baobab tree whose branches are rooted in heaven revealing the mystery of the beautiful divine Love which shines like a furnace of desire alighting the temptations of the night unleashing them with soothing words of quietude upon unsuspecting souls caught in the silence between the word wrought in vain Christ called out In vain Was his name writ In vain Was he slain In vain Was the word struck dumb founded silence heard echo past the hour which fell shadow like upon the sand-swept shore where the waves broke the silence in the warm night air Breathed In Out In Out Whilst Christ prayed For the ear To be restored In the healing power of listening To the rising And falling Within Each one of us As we share Our vision of the world With one Another Whilst we wait We listen to the weighty silent word within.

When you die to yourself and become one with the Lord You become a bridge to pass over for those who haven’t heard of the unfathomable beauty of the music of the word made flesh spoken in the whispering baited breath which captures the soul, only to heal it and make it whole with all, universally encompassed beyond aught the imagination can wonder at the bale fought in vain, for in truth all men know the One by many a name