Moment Of Grace

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Picture: Albert Square by Steven Scholes

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Fresh is a deep breath,

Encompassing it all.

Here’s the sky, above high towers:

Concrete, metal, and glass;

Old marbles of white,

Red bricks piled-up tight,

Above which, persistent is the grass.

The clouds

And the blue behind them sing to me,

As the solitary maple tree,

Somehow still green.

Afternoon, winter:

Meek python-trams moving softly;

Victorian windows, echoes of Venice;

Medieval memories overshadowing the streets.

Only now, I really see your grace,

Manchester,

The beauty of form beyond form,

Of the dream beyond the dream.

Only now…

 

Is there any other moment anyway?

 

Herons

 

Italian Stone Pine

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Picture by J. M. W. Turner

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Tears flow before my speechless mind.

Before the vivid silhouette of a pine,

I choose to let go of my limited sight.

Beyond the noise of judgment,

Experience strips off its garment

Of labels and old patterns.

Stone pine, brother of mine,

In the land of cypress, hackberry, and lime,

Hold me tight in your branches,

Ground me so I can reach the sky.

 

Herons

 

Mulberry Tree (桑树)

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Picture by Vincent Van Gogh

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So sweet are your children,

So far is your image

In the past, in the future…

Here and now I summon you,

Mulberry tree.

Some might not see it,

Some might not admit it.

Some might not taste

The texture, mild flavour, and aftertaste

Of those red, lilac, purple and black

Jewels, dangling from your canopy-rack,

Mulberry tree.

But I do,

You know, I do.

And so do you.

Sāngshù.

 

Herons

 

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By the way check out this amazing song by Dylan Ryche.

 

Get Off The Train

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Picture by Caleb McGinn

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Suddenly, you find yourself sitting on a train car and you see many things through the dusty windows. How on earth did you get there?

This question takes you back outside; the train has disappeared, you can see the sunrise.

The next moment you’re on another train car, and everybody is talking about the sunrise: “How beautiful is the sunrise.” “Oh the light is too strong!” “I remember once, when I was in France, such a beautiful day, the sunrise…” “Who knows the symbolic meaning of the sunrise? According to the ancient…” “It reminds of…” “One day…”

You start running through the clanking wagons, even in the toilet you find people talking. It’s driving you mad. Wagon after wagon it becomes noisier and noisier; the windows are even dustier. You leap through the people in the corridor, they don’t even notice you: all they do is talking. Finally you find a quiet car, near the locomotive. There’s a lonely guy there. He’s talking by himself – you realize that most people on that crazy train are talking by themselves. But the guy stands up when he sees you, he bows to you, point his finger at the sun outside the window and whispers:

“Oh beautiful, but… maybe, I’m thinking too much about it… maybe I’m losing the real thing…”

In the wink of an eye, you’re outside in the middle of the moorland and you observe the sunrise with all your being, you become one with the sunrise. This time you know that you can get off the train anytime you like. You also know that you can observe the trains passing from a distance, you don’t need to jump up. Even if they look beautiful, with golden framework, red maple walls, handsome men and gorgeous women luring you in with their words. Yes, you can choose to get up, take a look enjoy someone’s company, have a drink, a juicy chat about the old days, fantasize about your plans. Trains take you places, that is also true, and helpful at a certain level. But you know on a deeper level that the beauty of the scenery is incomparable from the outside. Outside there is no comparison at all. There’s only silence, and peace. You’re right where you need to be. No past, no future: only now. Take a deep breath and get off the train of thought. Now you’re one with the beauty of creation.

 

Herons

The Eye Of The Beholder

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Picture by anonymous

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See, my brother

See, my sister

See beyond the old mind-filter.

Become the channel,

Let the energy of what you see

Flow through in harmony.

See, my brother

See, my sister

See beyond fear.

Telescope your awareness

Towards what you like,

Towards the bell that rings to your ear.

See, my brother

See, my sister

See beyond detail.

Everything at once,

The wonders of creation

Welcome you to their secret vault.

There, you can see.

 

Herons

Rush-hour Cloak

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Picture by Janet Garcia

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Sunset smoking, on fire.

Slightly car-sick, I roll on the highway,

The tree branches along the road seem to greet me.

Dronin’ wasp-scooters slide ahead from behind,

Ghost-men cross the street blessing their lives with risk,

While the taillights burn slow, and the sunset hides behind blankets of clouds.

Today, I hallucinate reality less than yesterday,

Today, I’m in perfectly unsteady balance.

 

Herons