Ther Vine Keeper

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Wednesday, February 23, 2011

Angels, dance with me

Angels, dance with me

here i am
Father, let not thy light go out
Angels, dance with me

i am the objective
i am the subjective
i am the center of this universe
we call life
Angels, dance with me

i sit beneath the Stars
and there is an indelible truth in presence
as i am being bathed in their light
they softly cajole me to a certain balance
between awakening and sleep
Angels, dance with me

that which we create
we destroy
to thus clear the ethereal
from the seemingly real
and yet there is but one
and it is i
Angels, dance with me

as the axis of all perceivable existence
it is i who embraces yet the past
and the future
and the letting of the stream of my now
that flows from memory to dreams
from instinct to delusion
and the juxtapositions of thought
Angels, dance with me

my “soul” remembers a thing
a place
a feeling
a being
a seeing
of when
and then the dissipation of the connect
is affected
by my suspicions
and derelictions
and i realize my limitedness
within my in-finiteness
and the Angels have come
Angels, dance with me

they are here clothed in a dark light
undressing their regality
that we may understand what shine is
what light is
what magic is
what life is
what is . . .
Angels, dance with me

the gardens beyond conception
are awaiting the planting of the Seed
and we idly stand by
as the child in an eschewed quizzical wonder
of the process
as we await the harvest
that we may eat of the fruits
with no hand soiled
yet we sweat upon our untoiled brow
and somehow by grace
we stand
Angels, dance with me

i but ask for a thing
a kiss of understanding
that completes this cyclic chase
for wholeness
for the Soul-less-ness acts
we enact upon our “Self”
that of Self and each other
has extricated my true Joy
and supplanted it with
this dull ache
that pervades the breaths of Hope
yet we endure . . .
Angels, dance with me

as i sit here awaiting the rising Sun
i come to realize
that my eyes have failed me
i have been blinded
by the darkness
that dark light
and this night
my thirsting soul says
i shall again go to the Stream
of Spiritual congruity
where the Four Rivers meet
that flows to that Mystical
Ocean of one
for we are the Sons
and the Daughters of Creation
and i will enjoin the who
of all that i see of what i be
and cast off these leaden shoes
and submit this final humble request
Angels, dance with me . . .

© 23 February 2011 : William S. Peters, Sr.

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