Fog envelops the islands
as the changing air of autumn
blankets the sea with mystery.
Quietly we sit within the shroud
recalling the night sky passage
as crows haunt the trees
and we wait upon the sun.
Our path obscured,
our greater home hidden
but as we travel the ancient road
the garden of remembrance draws near
where fog lifts, the shroud pulls back
and we find our way once more
by the light of a brilliant star.
photograph by Brenda Jenkins
Reading of “Garden of Remembrance” with music by Chick Corea and Gary Burton.
Don, the events in Congress yesterday make the sentiment in today’s fine poem extremely timely. Thank you.
There is a star in each one of us, obscured only by the fog of personal and collective degenerate consciousness. The real climate change is the heating up of things within, as longing for that vision of starlight brings the dissipation of the hypnotic shroud of the unreal. It’s going to heat up a lot more yet. And of this comes the revelation in star shine of the way of divine identity, in the voyage of ourselves to ourselves with our fellow wayfarers in the unsullied heavens. Thanks, Don, for the poetic reminder of the star within, the way, and the sunrise to come.
Instead of crows haunting in hided trees we blaze audaciously as jaybirds knowing that in this collective Fire of Love, together our only heritage will be received with the same deep embrace that we can never forget.We are met in the midst of Star dust, purification burning Free.
Thank you
Don, the fog is lifting,quickly, as we are called to remembrance. Right on.
As our focus clears, we are able to see and know, unquestionably, the garden gift……….thank you, Don, for this lovely offering.
What a lovely portrayal of a peaceful autumn, a time for breathing deep, and allowing the body to relax as does the natural world around us.
Thank you.
Don, as we move with you, the procession of your poems through the seasons of terrestrial remembering brings us to this solar equinox, where, once comforted, now the comforter is here, and veils thin — as soft celestial star light bathes the garden in this newly dawning day. Ever grateful.