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Archive for the ‘transformation’ Category

The Land of Yum

(©by Eric Grace 1-26-2012)

 

If and when the spirit comes to you

And you’ll find this comes to pass,

Where you gaze upon the moon above

Or upon a most beautiful lass,

Give yourself the subtle pleasure

To infinitely pursue

The gift that lies within this mortal flesh

Thy sacred Hand, Thy sacred Muse.

 

That golden basket that opens up

To share its gifts of Bounty,

That there within lies a precious form

Birthed from struggles,

Newly found and freely shared

into a land of plenty.

 

If you but find the way to walk

into this quiet pasture,

It will lead you by the hand

Into the heartland of your one and only

tried and true Heart Master.

 

Then forgive yourself of all you’ve lost

And gain yourself a new composure

That gives the rain its style and spin

While leaves the ground all

the wiser.

 

So whistle a sweet tarry or tune

And wiggle that silly temple

Find yourself refreshed and renewed amongst good friends

And your toil will last no longer.

 

Grieve the sacred heart

Your tears

And the mists of fog will rise above

Giving Heaven all the fears

which have grown from secrets

Stolen from the mud.

 

When you’ve cried your last wail

And the circles become complete

Dance a celebration song

And set sail to the new world

a living loving tenderness,

numerous in fleet.

 

And as you walk upon the shore

Tender warm sand at your feet

Touch the sacred earth, this land

Give a simple song or chant

Listen to your heart beat.

 

Praise the Golden Hand.

Thus Grace has given to you this Day

And all those still yet to come

You will live into this my love,

Onward! Into the Land of Yum.

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Broken Light

I lied.

I cheated.

I borrowed.

I stole.

I was perverse

in thought and action.

I fucked.

 

I ran naked through

the woods

screaming

Jehovah’s name.

 

I lost myself in

so many thoughts,

people, and delusions

of grandeur.

 

And now I’m here.

 

I have no dreams left.

I have cracked open

to my brokenness,

living in my core.

That place that is unredeemable

except

in the living it as such.

 

In being what I am

freshness cleanses

the wound

so that its revealed to be

my destiny,

giving birth

to this broken light.

 

I stumble down

these halls

banging against

my self-inflicted walls

pretending I’m great

or straight or narrow

when I’m not.

 

I’m nothing of the sort.

I’m wicked game.

A fuselage

ready to explode

rocketing into orbit

around the sun.

and it takes just one moment to

bring me there,

 

That place between

you and I

that hurts,

that groans,

that’s murky

and disgusting.

 

none of it is far from here,

if you but scratch the surface

of this moment.

That is my gift.

11-7-11

Eric Grace ©


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When Freedom Rings

First, there was the Sound

that odd and then magnificent sound

the creaking door

edging its way

to a new position.

 

Then, there was the Light

blinding at first

from its newness

to the eyes of your heart

and then it became

so comforting

as it soothed

the eons

of despair

that had been its

ineffective replacement

or better said

its poor substitute.

 

This Light then found its way

down into the depths

of the dungeon

that you kept yourself in

where you had huddled in

and upon the beliefs,

the fears,

and the challenges

that broke your spirit

and hurt your soul

but this was your food.

 

Now as that thick door

finds its way to a new stance in your life

you come to know

that Grace

welcomes you

to your joy,

to your divine pleasure,

and to your calling to live

this moment

as your center.

 

And to give it freely

to those you love

and those that you have yet to love.

 

Celebration bells are ringing

as you come home to yourself

and to the Other

that is all around you.

You are free.

 

Eric Grace

9-20-2011 ©


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Sunday Morning


Standing as a tree

where emptiness has me

I fear,

like walking on eggshells

that the wrong step

or thought

shall make it all disappear

like a faint mirage

or take me

into the unknown territories

of Self

where anything up to that moment

that would be recognizably me

vanishes forever.

Tis a fantasy

most likely

but one that holds me

still in these moments

with the sun,

as grace holds the candle

of truth

to my eyes and heart.

The outside becomes hollow

with a radiant stillness as its ground.

An emptiness,

I want to dive into…

becoming wholeheartedly One with

finding a sense of confidence

in discovering,

something…

reliably me.

Something I can stand on, in, and as

that would serve as a backbone

to my rollercoaster life

that has not yet come to an end.

Its quiet here.

I rest with my restlessness

and wonder if and how

the emptiness will be filled

or better said

covered by a contraction of thoughts,

waves of feeling,

and constellations of people, relationships, and places

that tug me into the undertow

of past irreconcilable differences.

It cannot last for long,

I won’t let it.

But for now, it has me

undivided.

attentive.

at ease.

as my belly rumbles

for its morning meal.

Eric Grace

8-21-11©

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Still Alone


sitting

alone at night

with sex having lost

its fright

and its rush

over me to wage war

in my loins

or push my buttons of passion

into self-pleasuring

or robust wanderings.

 

The emptiness revealed

consumes a quiet light

that delegates

a new dawn

to my doorstep,

as I am becoming familiar

with a man

my father did not know

and never will,

except in the eyes

of my son

if he ever dares to take

that flight out of the cold country

where I used to sleep.

 

I do not know

this road

that weeps its way

to new vistas

of plenty,

But it has a liberating leash

around my neck

and I’m happy

to be its pet

until freed

into the wild

of my true Heartland

of Sacred Desire.

 

Eric Grace

7-28-11©

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when your skillet’s gone dry


Violation

no computation

of the ways…

that go before

those sacred vows

that have been broken

between you and me

so discreetly

in the silent spaces

of our words and time

where all else was lost,

and you were

meant to be mine!

 

I wished you could be

and that you made it right

again,

after the soft breezes

of caresses and breasts

that found their honey

suckle sweets…

flowing milk rivers of plenty

 

I came across

this flesh

the other day,

and it had your

name written

all over it.

wrestled from the hands

of times secret

keeper

in the back of my mind,

deep in the bowels of this earthen landscape

grasping for the sake

of a new experience

to be had

in the soul of a life

born free,

free of crime and grime

without days filled

with dread, shit, and shame

around what could just have been

a tender touch

from a loved one.

 

Eric Grace

7-28-11 ©

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Shame and security

This fragile,

delicate life

is nowhere in sight

to the arm wrestlers’

twist of fate,

coupled with

the delinquents

noose of praise.

 

I raise my hand

in front of the class

waiting to be called on

for goodness sake…

to have an answer

when so many

elude me

is a relief,

if not a blessed thing.

 

Cramped in my womb

tossed about

by shame

I wish for shallow waters

but I find

that I can’t swim

so easily there.

 

Fragrant meadows

dodge me

as I wander about

in hopes

for security

to take hold of my hand

and lead me to a home

that I will never have to leave.

 

Eric Grace

8-3-11©

 

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