Quixotic

Part I

A thunderstorm is advancing;

13 kilometres away? Perhaps 13 light years?

13 divine paces?

Or sunshine itself manifest in the 

13 byronic verses of jibber jabber?

Regardless,

Exalting!

What perturbed clouds;

Wafting, drifting, folding, encapsulating

All encompassing!

Listlessly,

Wistfully so.

Walked to the wind turbine yesterday morning at 10am

With a serious young man;

As troubled as I am

About the pontifix of reality

Standing upright on our existentially wounded shoulders of youth,

Now barraged with adulthood.

From up there we could see clouds drift Wellington-wide,

The burden below of phallic symbols against nature:

But mostly we were drowning in the wondrous twirling

Vapourous, billowish, blithesome  forms

Sliced, dispersed,

Then recreated

 Circulated

By albatross wingspan-turbine blades.

Yes, the pilgrimage back to nature.

Part II

The windy, wafty, stirring moment continued

After the fennel was torn to adorn sustenance;

Faith and grace restored in the one lonesome red potato of the gutters of Brooklyn.

Later I lay witness to transcendence in its purest manifestation yet,

Speechlessness incited later lest the sacred dispel too swiftly.

With love, with Rumi poetry, my eyes were opened

With the Koran my soul swelled, and healed

With slow turning I became absent to the world

And the ‘lover’ of a black circle ringed in red.

In the bowing

I became a manifestation of God

I brushed God on the cheek

After witnessing the intrinsic purity

That glazed the eyes of God.

The transcendental, veritable impelling whirling.

(Is this a tourism wanting to learn spiritual,

An exotic wonderment,

I suspect I treat it; I cringe)

I, the 'lover’,

Brushed with God;

The eddying white gown 'washed' over my lap.

Exalted, I did cry.

A natural state to be in;

So simple, so critical

To acknowledge oneself

Others

As God/Universal being manifest.

Essential

To wash away one's ego

With hands raised to gain God’s grace

The other transferring this grace to humanity

Continually, forever humbled

By the forbearance of a hat/tombstone.

What symbolism, what love; what awakenings!

Part III

Later still,

In the caress of love and honesty

Ginsberg, Rumi, Gibran, and Exupery

Hearkened my sated ears

With forbiddance, weariness, ascetism, sorrow

Delight, kindred curiosity and love.

As I reflect on love, life and the churning wheel of desire

Rumi whispers to me

He is awashed in Persian colours and calligraphy

With downward eyes,

Feett poised assertively on ancestral alluvium

Perceptive, omniscient; mystical.

'We are as the flute, and the music in us is from thee;
we are as the mountain and the echo in us is from thee.

We are as pieces of chess engaged in victory and defeat:
our victory and defeat is from thee, O thou whose qualities are comely!

Who are we, O Thou soul of our souls,
that we should remain in being beside thee?

We and our existences are really non-existence; 

thou art the absolute Being which manifests the perishable.

We all are lions, but lions on a banner:
because of the wind they are rushing onward from moment to moment.

Their onward rush is visible, and the wind is unseen:
may that which is unseen not fail from us!

Our wind whereby we are moved and our being are of thy gift;
our whole existence is from thy bringing into being.'