FERNS

What is the significance

of aromatic ferns?

That boy and girl have discovered a secret paradise:

rolling around in the earthy scent,

their clothes staining green

from the moist spiky fronds,

seizing stolen moments,

pretending to be grown-ups. My

envious stare meets them head-on,

awakening passions

of a deeply mourned youth.

Emotional backlash. Bees

lead me back to the open road.

Hunger of the Soul

has to be assuaged. Clear sky -

boundless, infinite - isolation's antidote.

Inhaling it's deep blue.

Freed, calmed, lifted - by meditation

on such unbroken expanse. So open.

Probing possibilities, like 

the famous mind of Einstein:

aware of the planet's spinning,

it's suspension in outer space,

mind clinging 

to invisible shooting stars

and ascending like a rocket - the state 

of metamorphosis, Nature's miracle,

that lump-in-the-throat moment

that renders the Soul wholly open.

I am suddenly

catapulted through time:

a retro journey back

to before the Dolorous Stroke -

to the meaning of Fate itself.

Devoid of shade,

sun beating down mercilessly,

as the ether magnifies it's rays.

Here is my Akashic Record,

the Prophet's transformative madness.

Observing myself blunder through youth

and into the mouth of the abyss.

Witnessing a sacrificial burning

and the Phoenix arising from the ash - not I,

yet somehow the same being.

Sudden denial:

the lashing out nothing more

than immature retaliation

for perceived rejections and betrayals

inflicted upon me by other damaged Souls.

What happens to the heart has consequences.

Retracing my steps. The boy and girl

have gone, but the aroma of damp ferns

still permeates the air. Pure rapture

enters my pores, infusing my being

with a startling revelation...

reabsorption of a juvenile self

accelerates emotional evolution.

I am suddenly light, weightless as a feather.

Nothing can harm me now, not even death.

The ferns rustle in a gentle breeze...