Rooted In The Ground Of Being

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Rooted In The Ground Of Being

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Those Masks of Antiquity 

Drawn towards those portraits of antiquity, 
Aging lines, silver strands and glassy gazing wisdom, 
Beauty uncovered through contemplative bobs and dozes, 
The beholder grown older, all creases and pieces of time preserved, 
Pondering the imaginative innocence of childhood;
Captivated by the figurative grace of youth, 

But thriving questions ripple the truth, 
Seeping outward like gnarled woody veins, 
Inviting the soul, down through the heart,
Cradled by the chapel's ribs where the spirit echoes,
Through rows of girded archways reverberating the heart's beat, 
That silences the raging streets. 

Outside of space and time, Resides the grace of one sublime, 
The Ground of Being, the signified, divine light aglow, 
It was not by sound nor seeing did I come to know, 
But from whom breath commenced, 
And not the tomb nor death could stand against 

Long before the light of any dawn had broken, 
Brooded there the word unspoken. 
Blowing channels for currents to follow, 
Flowing slowly from tributaries mouth to where the sea would swallow 
Such omnipotent creativity, this never ending task of designing infinity 
One breath brings light to the empty eyes of those masks of antiquity 

The wind blows where ever it chooses, exploring its own migration 
No one knows where it goes or what it uses to seek it's destination 
And so it is within the most inward recess of the spirit 
Overwhelming the host who cannot express it or hear it 
Such inconceivable wisdom that veils the silent unseeing 
With achievable hope that fills ground of my being 

August 27, 2015