Fathers Day thoughts

With love to all my children on Fathers Day, Jordan, Declan, Keenan, Morgan, Rosa and Pip, you are the joy of being a Father.  I’d like to dedicate the following to you:

On Children
 Kahlil Gibran

Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children
as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,
and He bends you with His might
that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
so He loves also the bow that is stable.

Marianna, Kahlil's Sister

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Passengers

Take our shape from those that we love and hate,

Seeds are watered within defining our fate.

Freedom an illusion from the Other

Taming the soul of sister and brother

And so He lights a fire of desire

To lock us in thoughts of what to acquire.

All fools dancing blind to His Piper’s call

One follows one over the cliff we fall

To the abyss of the rapacious few

Who weave dissatisfaction hitherto.

Un-blind yourself , rise up and know His plan,

Reclaim your space every woman and man.

If it was (To Morgan)

IMG_0102If it was (To Morgan)

If it was that it was later
And time had come to pass,
Then she would know I did not forsake her
Or broke her heart like glass

If it was that I could make her
See that I just couldn’t stay,
That I could do nothing further
And leaving was the only way

If it was that I were stronger
Then I may be with her still
I tried to last a little longer
But each passing day made me ill.

If it was she could see through
The web that’s spun around her eyes
She’d see that which is true
And not believe those hateful lies.

If it was that I could tell her
That it wasn’t her made me leave
It became too much to stay there
The truth she’ll come to believe.

If it is that I’ll not call her name
For the rest of my waking days
Then please tell her she’s not to blame
It’s not the error of her ways.

If it is that I can’t get to show
That my heart did not grow weary
Then please I pray let her know
Just how much I love her dearly.

Turning Circles

Turning circles, the tunnels of our mind.

Sky blue, tide turns, mountains stand tall behind.

Stood outside of time we’re all lost souls.

Feel the heart beat, wind blow, ice cold, snowfalls.

Cry out, appease the unrelenting pain.

Warm sunshine, fast river flow, driving rain.

Dwelling on times yet to be and now gone.

Sweet birdsong, crashing waterfall, white swan.

Trapped by how they say life ought to be.

Blossom blooms, bumble bees, green leaf, tall tree.

Release clinging chains of desire that tie.

Flower sweet scent, red deer run, white clouds fly.

Letting go and returning just to be,

Turning circles now still, all calm, set free.

 

 

Ego

Heads go up, little squabs sat in the nest,

Stretching themselves, pressing so to be heard.

Look at me and never mind all the rest,

If you could see yourself oh how absurd,

Posturing and preening to catch His gaze.

Hard wired, no choice you are forced to compete,

You should have by now left behind this phase.

To forsake a challenge is not defeat

For the fragile shell you fight to protect

And to stop the sky come falling on down.

You build your defence without neglect,

It’s behind every smile and frown.

Step away from the shore into your boat,

Release yourself from your castle and keep,

Continue on rowing across the moat

As you cast off all your illusions and weep. 

To my Mum

To my Mum all my love and thanks to you

For all those things you have shown me,

Panda, Monkey and playing peek-a-boo,

On my blanket, lying under my tree,

Red, blue and yellow ribbons, we love to sing,

I’ve seen pretty colours, heard lots of words,

Oh the butterfly a wonderful thing

But most of all thanks for all those ladybirds!