These pieces were written by a Martinist Brother across the sea - he has asked for them to be posted and hopefully enjoyed by others:
Life by Letters
Lives are poems in the writing,
First dreamt of in the heart of Divinity.
Letters are the breath of each living moment
Our words are but part of the Word.
The universe is a collection of letters
Combined in the most curious of ways
Philosophers, observant of Nature
Decode and understand what She says.
What is written into celestial stars
Is as diverse as the Creators’ first born
The ideas, the dreams, the desires
To allow us to meet our first dawn.
Poets write of sweet poetry
Mystics write of their Light
Housewives write of their husband’s demise
And each Man must express their own thought.
Some poems are almost untidy,
Others simply illegible and staid,
And others look quite most uncared for
Yet all are love poems truly made.
Each dawn, new phrases are written
The time to rewrite lost words: now
For Hermes, the God of all writing,
Journeys back to the blackboard somehow.
In Letter by Letter we live
Let life be a most joyful sight.
For time brings a shortage of letters
The end of these expresses our Night.
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Dreams of Descent and Return
Dreams are journeys of a lifetime
Living is the memory of believing in them,
Dying is removing any doubt we have lived
Light allows us to experience such dreams.
Cast out our death, let the dreams begin!
For my Soul desires to dream
My body is ready to experience the fires
May the past be gone Elohim!
I am slowly descending unto realms unspoken
As Light infuses the unwritten man
The realm of Earth appears dark and heavy
The inner heart remembers the past.
Yet Earth is not only a playground of dreams
To be played by the Children of Light
It is a truly heavenly stone most sublime
To be carved with spiritual might.
To remember our dreams is to remember our lives
But the true man is not of this realm
To climb and to toil is only part of the trip
For man to be back at His helm.
The Path of Return is a long one,
The longest of dreams we possess
The heart, it desires it most quietly
In Your heart, Oh Lord, may we rest.
Sunrise on the Tor - View of St. Michaels Tower - Avalon
Comments
Poets are definitely artists - using their hands to write - their heads to form words - and their hearts to bring emotion and life to those words: