Awareness

 

 

 

 

 

In that  deep clear pool of knowing
I see no reflection, hear no sound.
Only a vast unending silence
wraps me dumb and sings me deaf
in the purity of quantum knowledge
where exist no objects in the weft.
Only the untouched, untouchable is aware

For what I am is imageless,
has no weight, no shape, no form
yet dances to the eternal rhythm
of the Nowness without fail.
It is the circle, the ever moving O.
Yet still it turns, and is returning;
The snake swallowing its tail.

Margaret Gill

 

 

A Goddess For all Seasons

 

 

 

 

 

I spy her, Flora, naked, slim,
fronds of green hair in the breeze,
exuding waves of vernal growth
that spark the bright fuse in the root.
I coax the goddess to approach
with offers of bright rainbow light
with dreams of balmy, leafy days
that fill with sap and plump the gourd.
She shyly hides, deigns not to peer
from densest thicket, deepest wood.
She know her time is still not due
her breath of fire not yet alight.
No human guile can snare her in my net
Wise nature rules; her season is not yet

Margaret Gill