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[David A Taylor]

Understanding

I see the mother's love for her new born child
and compare it to my love for thee.
How often is that child the center of her thoughts
how frequently enfolded in her loving arms?

I listen to Your words spoken through great teachers
and shed tears for my lack of understanding.
In the depths of night I take You into my minds arms
in the light of day I seek Your presence.

I know You love me more than I can say
I am sorry it is I that leave You, not any other way.
Those that think they are deserted by Your love
will surely come to see, You never went away.

I hear Your words spoken through great teachers
and shed tears for the grace of understanding.
In the depths of night You take me into Your arms
in the light of day I rest in Your presence.

[David A Taylor]

reality becomes a dream that never was

an inescapable truth which encompasses all lies you are,
the single multitude of form that each and every snowflake hides,
the cold that makes such beauty from the absence of heat,
the heat that melts all frozen and becomes the gentle river of love
flowing at all creatures feet, and through, and through;
all we are, and all we meet, and all we do.

the perfection of each defect shines in your perfected face
as the sound of bells rung ages past fills our silent ears
and the taste of deep hunger fills all eyes with forgotten tears,
this body a boat, this mind a billowing sail, this wind your love;
what shore can be reached on the horizon of drifting stars,
that same shore on which we now stand, viewed from afar.

not this, not this, not any grain of sand that may be sifted,
nor any mountain that yearns to be climbed
nor the ocean of time ever lapping that present shore;
just the lingering fragrance of sandalwood
after the wind returns to heaven’s dark, unmoving, stillness,
and the stars bow low, so low, we hold them in our hands.

[David A Taylor]

I might have

The honey topped crumbly toast
glistens in the early morning sun
two falcons soar
and touch the air
that is my breath
as words of truth
now permeating mind
escape my grasp
flying out to the firmament
all care and attachments
left behind,
I walk away.

The cosmos now my abode
that four headed God
I am his son
the gentle sloping hills and sky
a vaulted canopy
in a cathedral of homage,
all this is my home.
I might have just kept walking
free from all cares
with infinite knowledge of the infinite
poised for calling,
just impulsively playing
on the wind
like a child
but then you, my Teacher,
call me
and I hasten back.

[David A Taylor]

Hearing

I spoke like a child
thought childishly
reasoned immaturely
became a man
with imperfect vision;
faith hope and love
stand in place
of childlike things.
Am I the seer
of all things seen
beyond grasping of intellect
past present and future
coalescent
in the still lake.
What is there
all is everywhere
a multitude of one.
Who am I?
Mind not reaching it
speech turning back
free from ripples
of imagination
thou art the seer
never any other
knowing fully
as I am fully known
in a twinkling of an eye
thou art that
unveiled

[David A Taylor]

"Can you weep for Him with intense longing of heart? Men shed a jugful of tears for the sake of their children, for their wives, or for money. But who weeps for God? So long as the child remains engrossed with its toys, the mother looks after her cooking and other household duties. But when the child no longer relishes the toys, it throws them aside and yells for its mother. Then the mother takes the rice-pot down from the hearth, runs in haste, and takes the child in her arms."
Sri Ramakrishna


Thank you

Anyone came to a philosophy school
Looked for the truth that dwells in all
Walked the talk and talked some more
Looked within and never lied
Teachers tried and more than a few
To open his mind and broaden his view
Through snow of winter and sun of spring
Anyone’s enquiry grew and grew
As bit by bit and drop by drop
Anyone discovered what he was not
Then one day he simply stopped
On woodland path where he was not
The flowers told him what he was
Everyone said he’d gone away
The teachers taught as they’re apt to do
That everything they said was true
Anyone cried to find himself
Through heat of summer and wind of fall
Anyone cried for twenty years
Until he found that root of fear
Found himself that was thought lost
And felt no more the winter’s frost
Everyone said he’s lost his mind
Anyone knew what was True
Was more than he could ever say
And nothing real ever went away.
He cried for his self, he cried and cried
He cried until the Truth arrived:
Everyone is all to him
Through summer autumn winter spring.

All credit if any due to ee cummings and Sri Ramakrishna
With love from David

[David A Taylor]

What is a heart for?

What is a heart for but to be broken open
Speech is only to reveal the silence
Thought, only to remember thoughtlessness
Aims, to come closer to that which has no aim
Resolution, only to dissolve goals
Aspiration, to be free of desire
Freedom, to be free
What is a heart for but to be broken open.

[David A Taylor]

candle

A pallid echo of what is here
no more than a scribbled map
on a screen of hopes
a small candle
in a place of despair
a frail fluttering flame
highly valued in darkness
but of what utility
in the light of noon day sun?

Do not settle for words
when in your heart is the light
that leaves all words only the ashes
of a part of knowledge once known
and all knowledge known is
but an infinitesimal part
of noumenon.

The sufi mystics swirl
and the ascetic meditates
eyes look, as it were
without seeing
and mind thinks, as it were
without thinking
have they have left us
to be where words do not go
ceasing wandering
through this maze of experience
to return home?

[David A Taylor]

Choices

Not for the golden sun I rose
but for the fleeting things I chose;
here standing on the shifting shore
with deepest ocean at my door;
I watch the passing of my time
and firmly cling to what is mine.

All that these senses taught
now hold me like a song bird caught;
God give me but two graceful wings
to soar aloft and heaven bring;
but then forsake the ocean's depths
which lie within this mortal breast?

[David A Taylor]

Shades of grey

I love to see what You paint
in more subtle shades of grey,
in gentle mists,
lost in a soft reflective day.

It is perhaps more clear to see
than in the sharpness of bright sun,
the gentleness Your nature brings
to each and every one.

The darkness of the night
You light with stars above,
and draw in our minds and hearts
Your spangled fields of love.

But in the early morning mists
I feel so close to You,
enveloped in Your bliss
and kissed by heaven's dew.

[David A Taylor]

Curtains

The curtains smile at me.
Why would you shut out the stars
they most curiously asked,
we can see them all shining
from dusk until dawn
they've been there you know
from before you were born.

The moon just laughed, said
I've the best view from here,
not just the stars as they glow
but also as well
all those windows below,
with flimsy curtains drawn tight
trying to stop all the people from seeing,
my beautiful light.

The sun beamed, as the sun does
not on the windows below
but on the silvery satellite
that's now stealing the show.
Said, my brothers and I
are not troubled at all
but when will men again listen
to us stars as we glisten?
The curtains now frown
(they don't have sensitive ears)
tell me they say,
those stars, do you hear?

Wrapped up in my bed
I muse in my head,
as deeply my heart
feels the universe call,
and I wonder and wonder
in awe of it all.

[David A Taylor]

Pooh Poetry

Honey

Pooh was sitting at his table and frowning.
He had finished his honey breakfast,
washed up his dish and then decided to have
a small something extra, just in case,
and was now deciding what to do next.

"Look at this Christopher Robin" said Pooh.
"Yes Pooh" said Christopher Robin,
"it's a piece of paper".
"I know" said Pooh, "but what is on it?"
"Well Pooh I cant see anything on it, it's blank" said Christopher Robin.
"Exactly" said Pooh, "it is blank".
"Now if owl had this piece of paper
it would be intrestin because he can rite
and you can rite, can't you Christopher Robin?"
"Yes Pooh, and Miss Granger at school says I'm getting good at it"
"Can you rite on it for me Christopher Robin"
"What would you like me to write Pooh?"
"Something intrestin" said Pooh.

Christopher Robin thought for a moment
then he carefully wrote "Honey", in his best handwriting.
Pooh looked at it and then said in a very polite kind of way,
since he did not want to hurt Christopher Robin's feelings,
and he thought he might, that is if he did not say it
very politely...
"That does not seem very intrestin Christopher Robin.
I mean, not as intrestin as the honey in my pot"

Christopher Robin did not want to disappoint Pooh,
so he picked up his pencil and started to write.

Honey is sticky and yellow and bright
Honey is nice in the day and the night.

Honey's the thing that makes life so sweet
Honey is something to share and not keep.

Honey most often in bee hives is found
and sometimes in trees, high above ground.

If you look you will find the honey in you
when you eat it, it becomes a part of us too.

Honey is made from the flowers as they grow
in the light of the sun as it constantly glows.

Honey is made by the Bees as they Buzz
gently and lightly, without any fuss.

Honey is most intrestin because
Honey is like the love that's in us.

Pooh looked at the paper and his eyes shone
and his toes tingled and he felt warm all over.
"Would you like some of my honey Christopher Robin?" asked Pooh.
"I already have some Pooh" said Christopher Robin.

[David A Taylor]

No Words

There is a poem that’s been writing
But not in words ‘till now
That somehow pleads describing
But exactly not known how.

It was on one sunny afternoon
In a place that shined so bright
In my mind its essence looming
But with no words that I can write.

My muse is sat beside me
And perplexed, we two alike
No matter how I plead with she
Her words are never right.

It was a magical location
With water smooth and still
As standing with no motion
With peace my heart was filled.

My muse she is now distressed
To find once more, again
She has no music in her breast
That might be able to explain.

Then there is a flash of knowing
A thunder bolt of life
We laugh and dance for joy
The end of all our strife.

It has a perfect harmony
The water, earth and light
Naught but love and knowledge
Now shining in our sight.

It was on one sunny afternoon
In a place that shined so bright
In my mind its essence looming
But with no words that we can write.

[David A Taylor]

do you

do you know that place
where dreams are unreal
just on the edge of space
beyond this vast universe
filled with all grace

do you know that time
when all this is new
before life takes its rhyme
behind the myriad thoughts
about all which is mine

do you know that feeling
where limits fail
so full of meaning
above all these emotions
so blissfully gleaming

do you know your self
free from all fear
the epitome of health
without any sorrow
and always so near

do you know the pain
that happiness brings
when you sit in the rain
then dwell upon things
which are never the same

for all that we think
and all that we see
never oh never
can compare with that Love
that brings You to Me

will you go with me
above, behind and beyond
before and then after
all that we learned
from the beginning of time...

[David A Taylor]

DUNAMIS

power, capacity; Aristotle regards dunamis as one of his fundamental principles (archai); Plotinus describes the One as the seminal power of all things ( dunamis panton: Enn.III.8.10.1); a net of divine powers in their descending and ascending order is a net of theophanies: in this respect dunamis is analogous to the ancient Egyptian sekhem; the powers of the divine Intellect and Soul appear to be present at every part of the cosmos, but physical world (and the human body)is unable to receive the full power of incorporeal Reality.


was any poem ever wrought
or emotion found its thought
or any thought had light and power
without this ever present hour
when silently I hear you call
banishing all thoughts so small
a miracle some might say
as I watch dunamis play.

majestic sun watch over us
as you to the heavens rush
while here on earth we lie
with eyes outreaching to the sky
galaxies they whirl and spin
in that stillness deep within
a miracle some might say
as I watch dunamis play.

in one exhalation made
a universe appears then fades
in awe now watching from afar
one trillion billion stars
as they come then go again
briefly time and space does reign
a miracle some might say
as I watch dunamis play.

without beginning, with no end
too vast to ever comprehend
a miracle some might say
as I watch dunamis play.

[Peter Blumsom]

Thank you, David, for these lovely and powerful lines. And for the Egyptian connection to dunamis, which I did not know. Heidegger said something interesting, that you never actually see the power, only its results, and particularly so when dunamis goes wrong. However, to me, he misses something important.This seems to stem from Pythagorean notion that power splits into two: active – male, and passive female, But of course we know that there is a hidden third.
You’ve inspired me to set down a couple of shorties of my own which try to address this threefold dunamis:

1.
The lorry's hulk is set in action
The road remaining still
And in between each warring faction
Mediates the wheel.

2.
That which lies hidden
The third to completion
Foils calculation

Though many have striven
With only two given
And formed tabulation

Which lives at the pleasure
Of times soon erasure

Few have made evident
The other participant
Which, with double blending
Forms triple unending.