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Perspective Stand
There are those that pass,
unseeing.
They walk blindly,
seeing only
what they hope to gain.
And for them, emptiness
like a dog on leash
will seldom stray.
Though still many
pass and see the pool.
The pool’s edges
are sparsely lined with damp
moss-covered rocks,
that share the bank with fern
and a profusion
of vine hosting trees.
Small native birds
sing within their rough embrace
dig for grubs among their roots,
which are partly hidden by fern
and decomposing leaves.
An idle gossiper,
the noisy kaka,
looks on watchfully.
While the fantail
flutters aimlessly
among the trees.
But the pigeon, so noble
and colourfully plumaged; does not see.
The brightly coloured berries
are all the fruits; he seeks or needs.
Far above the bellbird sings,
sweet songster
your notes are like
the mellow chimes of tiny bells.
A tui, the parson-bird, takes up the call
and sings a solo,
complemented by the whispering wind
that stirs the leaves.
A stunning sight
to gaze upon.
Many who chance to pass
are forced to stop
and catch their breath.
Yet though some see
far more than this
most see much less.
Others gaze across
the surface of the pool
and see wind blown ripples
upon the web-spun water,
and watch with wonder,
intricate patterns
with sheer delight.
While a few see reflected rays
upon a black glassy void.
A dazzling web of golden light,
radiating out from a single point
light sparkles and gleams
within a thousand strands,
yet glows as one
star tipped and cobweb spun.
A brilliant shinning
phosphorescent light
engulfing all, though
there is no heat
nor pain of burning.
Bodily aflame, soul
still encased, fire
it is elemental key,
to another
dimension’s door.
Infinity pauses,
momentarily, passes
but for the briefest moment
a mere man knew
to forget, perhaps
to learn anew.
Though clinging still,
to the realization,
that he momentarily knew.
Still others see
within the pool,
deep within
its murky depths.
Some say they have seen
fabled bottom,
yet others state
the pool is bottomless.
Who knows?
A woven cloak of emerald green
obscures all behind its veil.
The visible spectrum
distorted,
is unreal within its depths.
What lies beneath
trapped within physical density
dark, obscure, coldly chilling?
Water confined and massed
weight of pressure bearing down
beyond space or time.
Compressing congealed
frozen poison
sepsis, fear inspiring,
yet if fear is born
it’s within mortal mind.
Oppression a constant
interplay of power.
Power demanding creating
it grows and spreads,
growing upon senses already
outweighted and raw,
civilizations pressures, knocking
on maenad mind’s inward door.
And how many are slowly sinking
within engulfing density,
forgetting who or what they are
as they submerge destroyed.
A crawling struggling mass,
dragging others down,
into soul-leaching sedimentary layer,
of inflammable oily peat.
But where is
celestial soul of man
is it a spark
a narrow beam?
Transcended to purging
reaches of chaos
it reaches putrid limit.
A ray of light
from within soul’s heart
aspiring must be free.
Immortal spirit
enslaved, crushed, endures
destined to ascend
to ultimately rise,
once and for all.
A path not a means
a part of us,
evolving through progressing
its purpose,
to return whence it came.
A whirling ring of fire
tumbling spinning
gathering velocity as it grows.
Gaining celestial height
till finally it touches
transfigured stars.
People view life
from perspective stand
but where is acute angle
from which sightless see?
Culturally induced
to a degree,
yet humility and love
hold haloed key.
Ignorance and lust
are crippling chains
that need not be.
Slowly through pain, as if a torch
satanic links are cut
an individual rises free.
poem
by
Terence George Craddock
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