living, moments, mystics, nature, poetry, time

The Ancients

by Carmen H Gray

one of the many trails I’ve hiked in the pacific northwest

Time passes

it is a path of fallen petals

strewn across soundlessly, like dew drops

upon fresh blades of grass

they are just as temporal

each petal holds a moment

whereby a day was lived,

gladly or sadly

depending on the circumstances

they disintegrate

softly curling inward

becoming part of the footpath

where little bare feet tread

scattering with the wind

and nestling into the ground

resting under layers

of newly fallen petals

the soil and rocks

collectively guarding all

the knowledge and secrets

of each day lived

and each night spent

here on earth

living, moments, mystics, nature, poetry

The Light that Pervades All Things

“Whether you worship Christ, Krishna, Kali or Allah, you actually worship the one Light that is also in you, since It pervades all things.”

― Anandamayi Ma

The Light That Pervades All Things

by Carmen H Gray

Within you there is a light

It has a certain miraculous quality that gives it momentum

To traverse the stars

To change the course of any path

Simply by beaming

To act upon anything beyond itself

Creating dynamic evolution

You can find it in the strangest moments

Washing someone’s hair

Learning a language

Pausing to breathe

Noticing the layers in a single rose

Listening to the crickets chirping in the night

Or the frogs singing their chorus

Seeing yourself

Seeing others

In other words, living

Not just merely surviving

Lends itself to shining

The Light That Pervades All Things

ethereal, letting go, living, moments, mystics

I AM-NESS

“The intuition of the moral sentiment is an insight of the perfection of the laws of the soul. These laws execute themselves. They are out of time, out of space, and not subject to circumstance.”-Ralph Waldo Emerson

I Am-Ness

by Carmen H Gray

 

I Am-ness is letting the whole

be made up of all Parts

The parts we wish to project

The parts we wish to protect

I Am-Ness is the absence of division

Or Duality

It is all knowing, all being, all light, all love, all truth

It is everything and nothing in the blink of an eye

It is the symbiotic receptacle of the space between space

It is loving, when it is hard to love

It is seeing from the pinnacle into the valley below

I Am-Ness is possibility that we are changing into reality

 

 

art, beauty, ethereal, hope, living, moments, mystics, Uncategorized

The Rich Deep Tones of A Cello

drawing.pearl

drawing by Carmen H Gray

The Rich Deep Tones of A Cello

by Carmen H Gray

I’ve heard it in my dreams

As if he called to me

His voice in that same living tone

Of her beloved instrument

The sound waves echoing from our distant past

An expanding ripple of spheres

That reach across time

Pausing to recapture

The rich, deep tones of a cello

That hold so many memories

She ordered resin today

The parentheses have had their moment

I feel the exhaling of one hundred breaths

 

 

 

ethereal, moments, mystics, time, writing

From A Dream

“A dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world.”-Oscar Wilde

From A Dream

by Carmen H Gray

You and I, we made such vagaries of the mind

We called ourselves by unrelated names

And wandered into an altered world, where our ages

Were neither young nor old, nor anything in between

As if we were ageless, we were

I saw you writing and you watched me daydreaming in this distant place

I could not remember who I was anymore

As if I had disintegrated into no one, but everyone at once

And you were there to witness such an existence

What strange lives we have lived together

Thought I

 

art, ethereal, living, moments, mystics, nature

Truth Teller

owl

art & poem by Carmen H Gray

 

Harbinger of Truth

Night Scout

Spirit of the hidden realms

You called out

Before dayspring with its auspicious, tender light

Caught me, heedless in my faraway flight

Who? Who? You asked

And I heard the question

Though I found no origin

Surrounding my perception

What were you foraging?

So attentive to the starkness

A keen awareness to the rustling

Of flight wings in darkness

Harbinger of Truth

Night Scout leave-taking

Giving me pause

As dawn was breaking

Benediction with a farewell sigh

As you moved swiftly

Into the violet-gray sky

 

 

art, beauty, ethereal, living, moments, mystics, nature, time

Sundays in Autumn

tree

art and poetry by Carmen H Gray

Sundays in Autumn

Sundays in Autumn are alive

In and amongst the decay

The burnished rust revealing

That even an exquisite crown

Moves from its gilded beginnings

To evidence of archaic vulnerable venerability

All this I see with a deep inhale and an exhilarating sigh

That great oak, grande dame, standing

Gazing back at me

Telling me these truths

That’s what Sundays in Autumn are for

art, beauty, hope, living, moments, mystics, nature, time

Autumn

Art and Poetry by Carmen H Gray

Autumn

The clouds opened up in October

Fay beings in my garden

All of the old souls summoned from the cold, misty northlands

Landing hither and thither

On that one flower that overshadows me

It grew from seed, you never know what will happen

When you send seeds forth

Into their future states of being

One might become

The one that surpasses you

To stand in that hushed intermission

Of fluttering souls

All Soul’s ShadowSelves

On a steady path south

To a mountain where I have lingered in this lifetime

art, beauty, ethereal, mystics, time

Thou Art This

file-1

art and poem by Carmen H Gray

 

Tenderly she rivers the night sky

With petals in place of feathers

She moves in body and soul

All strings and stars expanding

Impermeable and eternal

Creation cradled to heart

Beating softly in the enveloped song of Humanity

They are vast as the sky together

Wider than infinite time

Encompassing the yet to be

 

cancer, hope, living, mystics, time

Zen and The Art of Survivor Maintenance

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PET Scan

by Carmen H Gray

Whirring noises are the sounds of birds in flight

The cold air a misty San Francisco morning in the depths of summer

Prayers whispered to Whoever while my hand touches the soft fuzz of her delicate hair

Delicate shell, the inverse of Her being, Her soul, Her unconquerable spirit

We are not in that sterile place of radioactive inspection

We are in our own private world where time and beauty bless us

With their perfect embrace