Nature Wisdom

Having a break today, here is a poem from my unpublished "back catalogue", perhaps appropriate for this time of year, and written in July 2005. 

It is not based on any hymn (as far as I recall), but it could be seen as a pagan or mystical hymn to the natural world, and that which is beyond the natural world. 

The pantheism or animism of much modern paganism, and the rejection of the transcendental is something the ancient pagans mostly would have rejected; even Xenophanes, a severe critic of the Homerian gods and goddesses, had a transcendental vision. Glory breaks through the mundane, and George MacDonald's North Wind, an embodiment of the Spiritual and Physical, is never far behind.

Nature Wisdom

The earth trembles, convulses as in pain

It shakes from the valley to the mountain

But the deep roots have a foundation firm

They will not be moved, this I do confirm

Though every creature shake with fright

Creatures of dust, they know their plight

But of earth, soil, rock, my promise made

Mountains pour out smoke, be not afraid.

 

From the earth, comes ripening fruit, an air

So fragrant with blossom, and sweet and fair

Wake up, South Wind, blow upon my garden

Fill the air with rich fragrance, so that then

My lover will come, drawn by pure scents

The air blowing down, begins its descents

Trestles of breezes, storms strongly blowing.

North Wind, my lady, her hair overflowing.

 

Come the storm, dark clouds moving along

Then come hailstones, flashes of fire strong

Lightning breaks through, and fires the land

Here is my raging fire, I stretch out my hand

As passion burns strongly, bursts into flame

Love ignites, burning, hearts now not tame

I touch, and reach out, grasp then embrace

Here is the heart of love, of sacred space.

 

The clouds burst asunder, rain falling down

From rivers to oceans, like a flowing gown

I break rocks open, and water gushes out

Flowing onto dry lands, so ending drought

Changing deserts to pools of living water

Fountains water the garden in hot summer

Taste of the stream, drink deep of the well

Life in abundance, beyond charm or spell.

 

The wasteland will become fertile, and grow

Fields produce crops, where Spirit does blow

Green shoots rise up, once more to astound

Water comes to the thirsty land, dry ground

Receives blessing, now streams are flowing

As the Spirit is coming, soft, gentle, blowing

Poured out upon the land, anointed in hope

Breath of life, in all and beyond all in scope.

 

06/07/2005