Shining threads

Shining threads

Thursday, 29 September 2011

Soft mistake

She made a soft mistake.

The bread dropped, butter-side down.

And sat there - stuck on the floor.

She smiled.

The drama of the movement had shifted her attention and now she was utterly present.

Soft mistakes are agents of grace.

Don't judge too quickly.

Be through the sequence.

Friday, 23 September 2011

Black is back

Black has its back to the light.

Black is the dazzling darkness.

Black is a cocktail gown. A suit for all occasions.

Black is the colour of death. The funeral hearse.

Black is the night.

Black is ink - a series of etchings pretending to meaning.

Black is our pupils - the wide open eyes of learning.

Black has its own attractions - an aid to make a body seem lithe.

Black is a colour of glamour and business, of religion and ceremony, of brooding and depression.

Black is here in varying proportions and sometimes is near total but never for long.

Black is back.

Black is the dog which pulls at your heels.

Black is your shadow which is most apparent when you stand in the light.

Black mines a pathway through opaqueness.

Black is majestic.

An evening dress to die for.

A cape to wear to lose oneself in the night.

Black is a chasm, a pit, a cave, a box of unknowns.

Black is the screen which masks the play of the visible.

Black is the backdrop to the season of temptation once night falls and the psyche is released.

Black is the colour in which evil hides and is able to dance.

Black absorbs all attempts to shine the light.

Black masks all depth of vision yet reveals what is furthest away.

Black attracts the parts of us which are tired of the garish gaze of daylight.

Black swims in an ocean of obscurity.

Black is anonymous.

Black is back.

Saturday, 10 September 2011

The beat goes on

The beat, the beat, the beat.

The beat bangs. The beat throbs. The beat pulses.

The beat of the heart and the beat of the drum.

The kick-drum kicks the beat into your belly.

A series of belly-beats.

As long as the party continues....the beat goes on.

Sunday, 4 September 2011

Many pharaohs

There are many pharaohs and still the cry of freedom is called afresh in each age.

There are many temples and still the call of liberty rings out under the open sky.

There are many teachers and still the voice of love breaks out from beyond the classroom.

There are many traps and still the spirit of victory triumphantly asserts itself.

There are many shadows and still the light welcomes those who confidently step into it.

The pace of peace

The pace of peace is a tempo ranging through the spectrum of possibility - though at times too slow the opportunities are missed and at times too fast we skip over vital stages.

The pace of peace is a sexy rhythm, where two bodies of experience meet to share difference in unity.

The pace of peace is not a cruel sprint which leaves most in the lurch but neither is it a slothful lingering which has no direction.

The pace of peace is a dove circling the skies above all lands of the earth. A pack of birds with representatives from all tribes of aviaries, now at liberty.

The pace of peace is a heart-beat listened to - the synchronisation of inner thought and outer expression mediated by consideration of circumstances.

The pace of peace is beauty personified in a stride called graceful movement, beyond effort or exertion yet efficacious and exalting!

Thursday, 1 September 2011

Running in heels

She wants it all.

The perfect work/life balance.

She wants to run in heels.

Immaculate skin and an indulgent lifestyle.

A strong man, comfortable with his vulnerability.

To have the door opened for her but not be patronised.

Financially independent but still open to being whisked off her feet.

She wants to run in heels.

And if the worst comes to the worst, she'll just take her heels in her hands and make her way barefoot.