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Upward Fall

*
Now that is plowed the field of the soul,
And sown is the seed of the whole,
And grown is the stem in the sun,
And budding is the gem of The One;


Oh, now you want Its Flower,
Yet all you know is sour;
When will it come, when shall I Be?
Standing on the rim of a well,
Tempted by the pull of a spell;
It is too deep for you to see.


Standing on the edge of your mind,
It is so vast and you are blind;
You hear a call: let go, let go
You dare not fall: oh no, oh no!
Your wish and fear are intertwined.


At the threshold of one’s being,
On the brink of surrendering,
There awaits a season;
Beyond one’s pain and withering,
Yet just before eternal spring,
Awaits a season, 
Unbound to time or gravity,
Celestial chime of levity,
Foreign to reason,
But known to the heart that longs for Thee.


ekoh
© 2016