Entering the Doors of Glory

              The Doors of Glory:

There are 

moments 

when 

the world 

opens up

and is 

revealed

as a door 

to glory;

when, 

between 

the twined trees, 

or upon 

the stacked stones,

or along 

the shingled shore,

or within

the heavy houses,

in a landscape 

long known,

but fading

daily

into familiarity,

the 

slanting sun 

sudden touches, 

in its rising 

or 

in its setting,

details, perhaps 

unnoticed 

until then.

Gilding them 

gold, its beams, 

bell like, 

sound

a soul call

to slow,

to stop, 

to stare,

to attend 

upon the 

filigreed 

moment

when the 

divine depth

welcomes 

us 

home again

to the 

holy beauty

of that 

which is.

There we, 

struck still, 

and wounded 

anew

by wonder's weal, 

find our 

inner eye

opened,

and soul-see 

all afire

with

glory,

now making of 

our 

everywhere 

a door,

a gate,

a garden,

where 

our senses,

barefooted 

and blessed

anew,

behold 

the Light

by which

all 

that is

abides.

Pic of sunset on one of the fairy hills

Seeking the Grail

 Seeking the Grail

Would you offer

the heart chalice

upon the altar 

of your being?

Beware then,

for the path 

to the chapel

is perilous 

and the way long.

First, the precious

metal of your mind,

thrice purified as gold,

will be forged anew

in the fire of faith,

must be then

hollowed to be hallowed,

beaten thin to be 

blessed by blood’s filling.

O my soul, remember

remember, remember,

the quest for the grail 

is all within you,

a space, 

an emptiness,

a cup of being 

to be filled 

to overflowing,

once you 

first find it 

beneath the ruins 

of your fallen life,

behind the trials of time.

Go then.

Hear again 

the soul song

calling you to the 

hidden chamber

at the centre, 

Go with grace

to the heart, 

to the fulcrum,

to the white stone,

from which 

the fountain

flows.

There, let fall 

the sword from 

your clenched hand.

You have carried

it long enough.

How much of 

your own blood 

it has drawn.

Then, drop

the armour,

the false clothes 

of shame,

bathe again 

in blessedness,

and receive 

the longed for 

anointing 

of your wounds

from the healers 

who await

your waking, 

your walking

into wonder.

Only then;

blessed, 

bathed, 

bandaged,

and bearing 

your life wounds

as stars, 

will you be able

at last,

to hear the 

sacred summons

of the

Fisher King,

and pass 

unburnt 

the flaming sword,

entering the garden

to become 

at last

the cup,

the grail,

the chalice,

you have sought 

for all along.

There in 

the emptiness

of death

discovering 

the One

who is 

the call, 

the quest,

the master

of the mysteries,

and the end

of all 

our longing.

A meditation poem on the mystery of becoming the “grail” the vessel of Divine Presence, a path to which all are called most especially in this Lenten season.

(Pic is Galahad’s vision of the Grail by William Morris)