Reaching out for the shadow-train

‘Just flickers and specks is all I have to remember you’
When the door closed and the floor became ours
And I held hope for the first time
There was little preparation of what you would do.

The noise stopped. Door opened. Stairs climbed.

‘I have to do what they say’
The Tamworth pavement caught my tears
And I lost a part of me for the first time
There was little that I could do to make you stay.

The noise returned. Door closed.

‘There will always be a part of me’
The web unlocked your image I thought was lost
And I found an image for the first time
There was little that I could now see.

Image restored. Heart open.

‘When will you let me rest?’
Just a journey in the shadows
And I found the train for the first time
There was little that I could now mess.

Image surrendered. Heart released.

‘I never wanted anything more’
But I will grasp the handle and close the door
And find peace in the shadows
There will we rest forever more.

TilleyCorkPriceMcGroryWindleMix

If you are looking for that thing that indescribable thing that stout drank under a bush under a summer eve
then the latent offering wrestled internally is the place for you to be
If the Silverback had left his hat and beard upon your table and if you were able you would plant it
as a small sapling placed in liminality and with an expected growth ratio that would make communitas but a breath
a death on the badge of a life-activist someone who dare not take a risk
The T and the Price he is more than nice
He is delicate and intricate and buried deep in the place where treasure is found
Its like the Cork clan have found their sound
And the tremors rattle the time and send out a sign
And little ol’ me is sitting by an out-of-focus tree
and pondering time and insane rhymes and liberal and lost theologians without a plot
that have misplaced or ignored the chase to discover the poet in all of it.
There is a man with a stick and a wife on a horse and in the middle of the muck is a heavens amount of luck
and when the fire gets lit from a little kindle its easy to hear the windles and ponder a dream and a possibility
And little ol’ me sitting by a fractured and tender tree
Suppose its time to Baker and Jones the whole landscape and redeem the scene and hover in wait
for there in the distance just beyond the trees ain’t no forest but a lake lying in wait
scented and prepared for the open and weightless gate
come.

Reclaiming Faith (Hey, it’s me, I’m dynamite and I don’t know why)*

(Thanks to V.Morrison for (*))

There were rumours everywhere and I could stand it no longer
I grabbed the first person that came close to me
‘Will you tell me what is going on?’
‘What you is feeling is true and you will be made stronger’, she screamed
After that everything became fragile but not in a weak, derbarian way
No the Veil of Invitation had shifted its arms a little more
And I began to breathe the familiar, delicate and softened molecules again
After such a long time I had my hand on the splintered frame
And I would never let it go again
Because its power comes from a source weighted in time beyond distance
And crafted by signs beyond symbolism
And I heard voices shouting from the streets
At first they were faint but the masses swarmed and clambered to be heard to reach the pinnacle of vocal potential
‘Reclaim … reclaim … reclaim … the faith’ was their song
Actually it ripped reality and struck so hard that I stopped breathing and fell to the ground
Conscious, a small conscious man but without a breath
Inside the last fragments of death were confronted and a crowd were staring down at me
‘Reclaim … reclaim … the faith’. Beat. Beat. Drum. Bang.
I was lifted up at the same time my lungs started their dance
And I could see nothing except faces
Like staring up at falling snow
Then a beat emerged and it grew and it grew and it grew
Until a million orchestras were unified in a single stream and words had been replaced by pure sounds
And a new language found its roots in the core of the earth
A language whose foundation was one word
Reclaimed.

Andy: A Dreamer Reflected In RBS Windows

The greatest movement of the brain I have ever found was Andy
He shared the floor of the RBS customer entrance footprints
He was their first customer and their last but he never went inside
I would pass him on my way home and in time I passed no more
But took my place upon his sacred floor.

It became the highlight of my day and the narrative of my night
Together we would share the journey past
And when broken by a customer I would consider whether anyone could actually be last
In our broken communion we reached into a stretched and solid expansion
Of what it means to be a brother and to lose but truly find another.
Then one quirky night my heart was poured out and laid bare before my reflection
In a new RBS window
Andy was no more but had been taken from his resting place to a place of rest
I stood and looked
I kept looking but our story was left under the feet of RBS customers
And to them and from them it has been carried
And will be forever more.

All I Had Was My Feet On The Ground

I heard whispers that down the corridor was an answered question
On reflection I decided that I was only visible out of the shadows
So I gathered my bag of thoughts and moved in and out
Making my way to the dark portal
With rumours of lies and a distorted imagination.
Suddenly I stood in a sacred space
Waved my arms and reached for something solid
But all I had was my feet on the ground
I turned around and shouted just to make a sound
That may come travelling back to set my boundaries
But all I had was my feet on the ground
I was moving but still stood
I was breathing but could not grasp any other life
All this way and still no answer
I cried out to make sense of where I had been led
But all I had was my feet on the ground.
I then heard whispers that down the path there was an answered question
So I kept following until a speck of light transformed the scene
I reached out to the colour and wrapped it around my being
And I was standing where I had begun but outside the shadow
I was visible and vulnerably more revealed and then the answer.
All I had was my feet on the ground.

If it ain’t broke…

Follow the flickering light over to me -
Emotional responses to the bread and wine
Sometimes need a reminder
That all is fine.
The red in your face and the shaking hands rely on a process which is fading
On a system which is being remade
On a grave which still is a gateway for the brave
On the necessity of brevity and the constant explosion of your personal truth
Something
(Unfortunately) from which you need to be set loose.
Led by the shifting path and sinking light -
Spiritual responses to the ecclesial hope
Sometimes we all need to climb the rope.
The red in your eyes and the silent walk rely on a pattern emerging
On a regime born from the experiment
On a life which always grows and leans on the eternal delicacies
Something
(Hopefully) from which we must cling, gorge on, flip, twist and once again
oh please once again
discover that first taste.

Surely…

Woah! Stringy memories and dilated pupils … grasping at summit but the oil prevents a grip
a strip of the frame contains her hair … more than that … the seduction of her grace and
face lies entrenched in a nine orbit tear … shaped and prepared from the single pearl
swirls around the expanse of my heart
surely we all have someone like this to come home to?
Its just a way she says and turns and makes castles from the sweat of the air
daring the wild to be stilled and peace to grin
win-win she shouts across the city of our children’s lives
diving in the moistness of our safe space and dreamy embrace
surely we all find the way home?