Weaving a Thread of TAO

Among the steel armour of this age of attack.
Rocks, thrown against the wind . . .
Artillary against the down flowing water,
Bombs . . . against the patient,  level earth,
Electricity . . . summoned by the ton.

Against the dark night,
Whirring of water and fan . . . against the heat . . .
Devouring the residue of a dead age.

Against the cold,
Steel and brain and fire, against distance . . .
Sound, foucsed and fired.

Into the ear against silence . . .
Engines of distraction.

Against the focus of thought,
We live in tombs, against the threat of life.
Terrified and lonely in our souls,
Smiling with the emminent satisfaction of our wants,
We have stripped the world of its cultures,
And now . . .
We all stand shivering with need . . .
Weaving a thread of TAO,

Into an armour,

Against the attacking world of steel.


--- that none sees ---

Quiet and humble,
A fire is lit and balanced ---
Between the great emptyness,
And the great stupidity.

The freedom of bare feet,
On duty soft sand,
Tempts forth no glory,
And the trail of caualties,
Lies strewn with my own ignorances.

Poised ---
Like a stone on an iron hot desert.
Rooted ---
In the cool depts of natures obedience.
With no illusion of going anywhere,
Defying death from both sides.
I sweep the porch and draw water.

C. Ryan

Devoted Theosophist, Artist, Naturalist, Singer, Song Writer and Guitarist

The Soul

The Soul, they say,
Is a sweeter water, than all the sea,
Untouched by waves,
And deeper than the heart.
They key to a million treasures could sing,
A jewel-like bird in your hand,
And it would be but a small gift,
From the Sea of Soul.


The Ancient Story

There is the Ancient Story,
they tell about,
The knowers of all
There is to be known.
Reassuring it is,
That some do care,
For the untouchable essence,
Of all men,
Dreams, and
From one end to the other ---
With every passing thought.


The gentle way

The gentle way ---
That would harm no other ---
As all life is a brother ---
One to another ---
One united mass of intelligence ---
Quivering alive ---
From one end to the other ---
With every passing thought.

Once more

I bid you, fair bird,
dark fool,
seeker of deaths
and the ageless ---
To take leave of your senses,
and bide with me awhile,
upon the abandoned
hiway of miles.

Over silent rainbow bend.
A curving wind that never ends.
The light of mind thru night of time.
To serve the soul ---
as friends.


"Back to Love" on newest album "Letters From Home"