The Camaraderie

The Camaraderie
The Camaraderie

Canary fly over the chimney pot

dowdy sparrows give chase

so pretty a hen with jersey bright

will never suit their case.

Blaze fire blaze, a fire made not with logs,

but ointment thoughts and wisdom

gathered into books

compelling words will burn, though winsome.

Had they not first their utterance,

catched in willing ears to listen?

with hearts that hope to love?

why else would they have been written?

Bow down young man in your courtyard

lower your face in the moonlight,

far in the distance, ever nearing

a weight of iron is coming with might.

*

“Oh! show me your face,

show me your face

then strengthen my legs

that I might stand in this awesome place

Oh! show me your face,

show me your face

let your love shine upon me

before I must leave this place.”

*

Black charcoal black

you will ever be black

though water run upon you

still any brightness lack

black charcoal black

I do not desire you so

luminous red my companion be,

my candle will make you glow. 

Tell me where the wind goes

you hear him singing in the trees

show me where his journey ends

refreshing he comes as he please.

You cannot say what you feel

nor colour the fragrances

the breeze has gathered in his arms

to throw against you, sweet rememberances.

*

“Oh! show me your face

show me your face,

then strengthen my legs 

that I might stand in this awsome place

Ah! show me your face

show me your face

let your love shine upon me

before I must leave this place.”  

The beautiful Sadhu Sundar Singh the famous Indian mystic who is the inspiration for this work.

http://www.eaglevision.com.my/ssvisions.htm 

Sadhu Sundar Singh
Sadhu Sundar Singh

Winter pith and spectres

Is there a thing

that will cause the bells to ring?

and in the bush on branches

the feathery birds to sing?

*

What will make the river merry again?

or the trees to swoon

in their glorious greens?

Wild iris unfurl, put out her tongue,

catkin peep out of his pod.

*

What shall be this thing

transforming all to joying

and decking out of meadows?

Yes of course, the early Spring.

*

Ah! but now the mists and frosts

of winter cover our Island home,

white, as pith of orange

shrubbery stands rigid, spectres

nor any thawing see.