rise

Standing free until Time’s ending,
Sovereignty, in silence bides
In Hope, to see Humanity arise
And dark pretending die, displaced
By fealty to Love and Grace
And Wisdom held in Nature’s rhythms.
Latent leaven swell to hallow
Potent earthly spirits
In unlimited and conscious living Light.
Unlock the doors of higher purpose
And desire, consecrate;
Creation, purify and elevate.
So may our higher Will be done
And let our kingdom come.

Merry Solstice xXx 🌻

let the light pour through

Progress ~ Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Let there be many windows in your soul
That all the glory of the universe
May beautify it. Not the narrow pane
Of one poor creed can catch the radiant rays
That shine from countless sources. Tear away
The blinds of superstition; let the light
Pour through fair windows broad as truth itself
And high as God.

Why should the spirit peer
Through some priest-curtained orifice, and grope
Along dim corridors of doubt, when all
The splendour from unfathomed seas of space
Might bathe it with their golden waves of love?
Sweep up the debris of decaying faiths,
Sweep down the cobwebs of worn-out beliefs,
And throw your soul wide open to the light
Of reason and of knowledge. Tune your ear
To all the wordless music of the stars,
And to the voice of nature, and your heart
Shall turn to truth and goodness, as the plant
Turns to the sun. A thousand unseen hands
Reach down to help you from their peace-crowned heights,
And all the forces of the firmament
Shall fortify your strength. Be not afraid
To thrust aside half-truths and grasp the whole.

                                        *

Merry Solstice xXx 🌻

take hold

Love and despair
creep up, seep in
take hold
our days and nights
without end
save our souls
weep and serve
all witnesses
together making do
sharing mercies
and all manner of tears
marching on in the shortness of forever
hold the line hold your nerve
fix and mend
start again

How many times can the heart break?

Labour is, at least, a doorway to better alternatives

Jeremy Corbyn is having a pretty good campaign. Of course, this is the bit he does best so I imagine that, for all that I have criticised Jeremy Corbyn, I shall continue to do so. Still, he and his party have much reason to be pleased with this interactive media performance and the national resonance with his general narrative. Away from his truly dreadful social media fan base, his campaign has been warm, sporting, humorous, relevant and refreshing. It’s good to see some unapologetic confidence without the arrogance of the Tory disposition.

I haven’t changed my mind about what I like and don’t like about him and his team but I still hope for a Labour government. I’m really angry about his lacklustre EU referendum campaign effort and his blind alignment with the government. I worry about his ‘pacifist’ record: I wonder who he would confront and how far he would appease in international matters. I really dislike his us and them-framed punishment populism. I have a natural suspicion of all utopianists. I think there are some massive flaws in some his socio-economic intentions. I’d be anxious about his dithering managerial style and some of the people and advice with which he surrounds himself. But. But, but, but

I could live with Corbyn as the PM (for little while, anyway) because, 1) this binary choice is relative, isn’t it? And Theresa May is having a laugh: she makes Jeremy Corbyn look almost statesmanlike, let alone competent. And 2) as him winning would take a miracle in the first place, I am reassured that his administration would be tempered by the parliamentary make-up of other parties’ numbers.

What Conservatives like to describe as a “coalition of chaos” looks, to me, like several parties who, potentially, have much more in common than divides them. I’d much rather a potentially malleable Labour minority government, bolstered by a load of softBrexit/remainer parties than Theresa May’s Cons.

And if this miracle does not come to pass? I would hope for a hung parliament in which every party but Conservative/UKIP held the weight. Failing that, then May being returned with the smallest possible majority and facing a mighty, multiparty opposition.

As regular readers know, I hate Brexit and I can’t stand this tory government. They also know that, contrary to what’s being framed as popular opinion, I think that having a second referendum reflects my personal sovereignty and is a democratic right. Things I thought Brexit said it wanted more of.

I’m in the south-west and I shall be voting Liberal Democrat – even though I dislike the candidate – because I’m a remainer, wanting a second referendum and it is the best, probably only way that I can do my bit to rid a marginal seat of a Con man, whom I like, even less. If I lived in a different marginal, I’d vote for any party except UKIP that stood the best chance of defeating the Conservatives.

All domestic agendas are hopium until the shape of Brexit is known and in effect. Tories and right-wing press pretending otherwise is insulting and irresponsible and, for all the infuriating muddle-headedness of Labour, at least, even if Corbyn is indifferent, his Brexit team does seem to get the complexity and the potential for harm in a Toryfied deal/no deal.

Anyway, we can’t achieve or sustain a strong economy with an insecure, impoverished, paranoid and divided population and May would continue to inflict damage on the country whether Brexit was happening or not. She and her party have to go. Labour is, now, at least a doorway to better alternatives.

 

Ergot ergo…

Greased slopes
Long rope
Peak poise: ergot
And enough is enough, right?
Vote human, not bot.

 

Love alone

Extract from ‘Hymn of Love’

“Love redeemeth, Love lifteth up, Love enlighteneth, Love advanceth Soules.
Verilie Love is doubly blessed, for she enricheth both giver and receiver.

And if any creature whom thou lovest suffereth death and departeth from thee:
Fain wouldst thou give of thine Hearte’s Blood…

Behold, Love is a ransome and the teares thereof are prayeres. Yea, thy love shall enfold the Soule which thou lovest. Thy prayeres shall lift him up and thy teares shall encompass his steppes. Thy love shall be to him as Light shining upon the upward Waye.

And the Angels of God shall say unto him, ‘O happie Soule, that art so well beloved; that art made strong with all these teares and sighs. O little Soule, thou art mighty if a child of God love thee. Thou art possessed of great riches.’

For every cry is a prayere and all prayere is Power.
For in the eyes of Love, there is nothing little nor unworthy of Prayere.”

[Anna (Bonus) Kingsford, Clothed With The Sun]

**** *** ** *

When the worst of us takes the best of us,
Let not the bright embodiment of Hope be lost
But pour the Light of Love into the void,
That Humanity may rise to honour Life.

🌹

#WeStandTogether

Trick of the Light

Light isn’t all soft love and fluff.
It also pierces, sears and blinds,
To better find the darkest stuff,
The sharper to define.

When fear and hope and wrong and right
Turn inside out, it brokers bright
And what is stirred is why it fights
To air that which it brings to Light.

It shines with omnifarious gaze
That doesn’t favour where it bides
And draws reflection to its rays
From what begins inside.

Light isn’t only safe and kind.
Its ruthless microscopic eye
Is fixed to game the heart and mind
Of what it seeks to purify.

Shadow-shaker, mischief-maker:
Structured play, its grey delight.
Teaser, tempter, teacher, faker:
Doubt and faith give way to sight.

Silver linings; golden threads;
Black light; white night, sharp and hazy.
Tricksy slick to honest wed:
It’s madness but it isn’t crazy.

When is enough?

When is enough enough?
When will it give?
When ornamental plans
And the dead hand of hubris
Berate the precipice?
When is too much?
When the State is who hates?
When fake is the real news
And theocracy an economic startup?
When the individual and collective
Are mutually exclusive?
When is enough enough?
When Overton is the squeaky wheel
And emotion is its grease?
When it takes police with guns
to protect Democracy? And Gina
To remind us who and what it is for?
When the greater mass has barest weight
Yet bears it all
And snake-oil is imposed as fate?
When the coiled springs
Of claustrophobic souls take leap?
Too late.