Kether Muse WordsClick Image Below for Main Kether Muse Page
Kether Muse is a collection of my writings. Poetry, prose, stream of consciousness and miscillanious scribblings. In the Politics section I may rant and rave or ponder the possiblities that encompass issues of peace and war and society at large. A little heart, a little mind, a little soul. All these writings are my own. I hope you find something that stays with you for a bit after you leave this cyber chamber.
Poetry
A poem I found I wrote on 3.27.04 and forgot about
The light of the moon casts soft shadows on quiet grass.
A new day sits beyond the hillside awaiting its turn to play.
The game board was set up yesterday to accommodate.
Soon it will be my move.
As Father Sun rolls over the new born Earth
He watches without judgment.
There are no losers.
There are no winners.
There are no wrong moves.
The Ant
Kether Muse
Written at the
Morning Sunlight shined into the curtained window
casting shadows upon the smooth and empty floor.
Then I saw you with your heavy load
wandering with determination and purpose
toward some unknown destination
across the endless barren desert of linoleum.
“How much like you ” I thought “am I.”
And a tear of sadness touched my cheek
as I contemplated the hopelessness
of your journey.
So I reached out my finger
pulled you up
and carried you outside.
And as I let you go
I thought with hope,
“Perhaps one day someone greater than I
will stretch forth their hand for me".
A Gathering of Crows
I sit upon the cool wet grass.
The air is fresh and tastes of sparking wine.
I lean back to absorb the view as my palms touch the wetness of the evening’s dew
reluctant to leave the grass to the morning, just as children who defy their mandate to go to bed.
The coolness is reminiscent of hot mountain hikes and cool flowing steams
where I have cupped and dipped my hands to quench my thirst.
Before me stands Grandmother Maple with limbs stretched up and out
attempting to embrace the sky with all her multicolored majesty.
Clouds drift by silently carrying changes on their backs.
My eyes follow, awaiting a glimpse of the future they are holding.
Small black spots begin appearing, moving crisscross along cloud faces,
slowly descending before me.
From all directions they begin to form and grow as they approach my
eyes, now moist from the crisp fall air and dew.
I see these floating bubbles as they approach, slowly realizing that they are scores of crows descending, gently landing upon the branches before them eagerly accepting the offer of embrace.
"Ka!!".
Each announcing as it roosts that it has found its appointed seat.
Grandmother Maple sways as the arrival continues and the blackness of feathers are contrasted against the multicolored fall coat she is wearing.
Each crow now sits quietly awaiting the last to arrive.
For a moment all is silent and returns to the calm of the morning as before.
In the momentary stillness I am aware that something special is about to occur.
I do not recall receiving an invitation to this gathering of crows, but I must have been invited for I am here.
Slowly the discourse begins.
"Ka. Cah.. QUA!!."
I ask my guides to translate so I may gain wisdom.
As I listen I find harmony in the clamor.
They speak of food, as all agree Winter is returning.
They speak of the young they bore this spring.
All wonder if any of them are gathered here also.
They speak of flight plans as they prepare for traveling
when they depart from this wooden forum.
They look around as they speak with some dismay of our Mothers human children
that scurry round in seemingly constant confusion and disharmony
upon Her bosom, as a cold wind descends for a moment upon us.
But laughter overshadows the momentary tenseness as the sun returns from behind a cloud, warming feathers and faces including my own.
All are in agreement.
"All is well. All is well."
The laughter ebbs for a moment and silence returns.
Once again it is broken as the frenzied dialog slowly rises reaching a crescendo.
As if by an unseen command they all leap to flight without warning.
The urgency of their assignments leaves no room for hesitation.
In all directions the gathering explodes as each chooses his path and is gone.
They are charged to tell the news they have received to all they may encounter.
The closing theme of "All is well" will be the keynote of conversation.
A message retold by each creature in their own voice, to understanding ears of anyone who may listen.
I sit in awe as this gathering of crows is conclude and look around me to see if others are also gathered here as witness.
There is none.
Even the squirrels busily gathering walnuts seem unaware of what has transpired above them. I wonder if it was but a dream.
I close my eyes and recall in memory the echo of the presenter’s voices at the seminar I have just attended.
Calm has returned to the morning and I breathe deeply filling my soul with the glory of the day.
I open my eyes to gaze upon the tapestry of life that is being woven all around me.
Like Grandmother Maple I too reach out to embrace the endless sky.
Soon I will stand and go on my way.
For I too was present at this gathering of crows and am charged with the task of relaying its message.
"All is well.”
Kether Muse
Quasimodo ©
Quasimodo my brother.
My teacher.
Sacrifice yourself for love.
The salt upon your wounds has no sting when ones heart is Fire.
How I admire your unceasing selfless devotion to your charge.
You sit with your tears among the gray granite gargoyles
who ground you to the reality of the moment.
With awe filled longing and thankfulness in your eyes for their unwavering presence
an aura of hope surrounds you like the halo of the saints.
As you watch your love walk away into the night,
embracing another, I feel and recognize your pain.
I see in your eyes Love has not diminished
yet still you are at peace.
I hear the echo of your voice on the Cathedral walls
as you embrace and address your steadfast silent friends.
“Oh, if I were only made of stone like thee.”
A Rose
For H.H. upon her return from
January 2002
Who sees where the past has gone
Or where the future goes.
The moment that matters most, my friend,
Rests here and now...
Within this rose.
Nothing stays the same,
We both understand.
Changes are the wind that blows
The things that matter most
Lie in your hand
Just as this singular rose.
I could have given silver or gold
But with heartfelt thought I chose
To show my gratefulness for you
With the gift
Of a simple rose.
Words contained in poem and verse
Elegant works of prose
Would never convey the thoughts I have
As beautifully
As this rose.
So hold this moment long as you may
As into the next it flows
This flower, too soon, will fade away
But somewhere
Another grows.
Kether Muse ©
The Warrior and the Monk stand before me their lessons to impart.
They test my Soul with systematic measured scrutiny.
In the Heavens the Gods pound the Hammers of Creation
tempering the Sword of Truth which they will wield to split my illusions asunder.
The forge is roaring and the Fire burns hot as a thousand stars.
I kneel before the alter awaiting the blow of the blade.
They clearly see the fractures in my armor
and discern just where to strike.
I cannot prepare for only the Gods know their timing.
I can only chant my Mantra of Peace to dissolve my fears
for I know they will not serve me.
Those and other illusions soon will lie shattered on the temple floor
to be swept up and recycled by the Gods.
The process has begun and I hear the ringing of temple bells
as the lightning passes trough me.
The Warrior prepares his lessons
as he casts me into the Fires of the Gods.
His intent being to temper my Soul with the Wisdom
only gained when my chains are burned to ash.
As my illusions melt away the Monk stands ready.
He submerges my burning Heart
in the cool waters of Compassion
to complete the process of transformation.
I flow into the Sacred River and emerge anew.
Waters of tears made manifest
from a life of joys and pain.
Healing springs which bubble forth
as eternal as Life itself
and none can stop their flowing.
The Warrior and the Monk stand over me.
My Baptism is complete.
Baptized in Fire and Tears.
The Temple doors swing open wide
as a new dawn ascends waiting to embrace me.
In solidarity I too arise and venture forth reborn.
The caterpillar awoke today from a dream.
He thought he was an Angel.
He was taken aback when he realized the truth...
And as he sat and contemplated his new found self
a wave of light engulfed his mind...
Today a man awoke from a dream...
He thought he was a caterpillar.
The light of the moon casts soft shadows on quiet grass.
A new day sits beyond the hillside awaiting its turn to play.
The game board was set up yesterday to accommodate.
Soon it will be my move.
As Father Sun rolls over the new born Earth
He watches without judgment.
There are no losers.
There are no winners.
There are no wrong moves.
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