Today an older poem resurfaced for my inner eye along with the photograph from Big Sur. Two paths joining up, along with hundreds of other paths. Doing what they always have done and will continue to do; being one path leading home. Inner as well as outer.
“How I go to the woods Ordinarily, I go to the woods alone, with not a singlefriend, for they are all smilers and talkers and thereforeunsuitable. I don’t really want to be witnessed talking to the catbirdsor hugging the old black oak tree. I have my way ofpraying, as you
Gratitude For the Sun and the Clouds For the Grey and the Green For Silences and Sounds For Spaces and Spaces in Between ~
In a new place With a new a scenery. Maybe, Just maybe Embarking on something That could be a new life. I’m not so sure. Was I ever? ~ (first shot with a new little Leica friend)
Flower of ice Melting at dawn Reborn in the night A timeless mystery Of death and life ~
There are times, we know the path Yet dare not walk it. Other times we don’t know the path But walk it anyway. At times there is no path So, we create it, as we walk. And then there are moments beyond time Where the path dissolves And in humble
Will I ever make it? The answer is; to where? And therein lies An infinite beginning Of freedom To fly effortlessly ~
I am listening To your every word And every tale From twisted shapes Slipping out from the dark To formless stirrings within Giving you wings I am listening Behind the words And beyond the tales To your life that flows In a sacred place Where stillness dwells And stories
Facing the beasts In the dark hour of dusk Strength is found In the most unlikely of places Looking straight into their eyes Recognising the reflection Tears touching hard rock Gently polishing off its edges Beastly guardians Of an unfathomable mystery Living in a shadowland; Obsidian stars falling From
Winter glow Longer days Are drawing nearer Perhaps too Our inner sight Will become clearer As we transition From dark to light May the mystery of darkness Become a resting place The yin and yang Of our souls Connecting inner and outer space Spinning perspectives On our existence To
When the wind has a say We never know In what direction Water decides to flow ~
In solitude I walk Yet never alone Storm merging with an inner source Rain swirls in my veins Roaring waves; warrior’s cry Explosion of the sea Connecting with barren walls Tension creating portals To a still space between the stars The moon tattooed on my soul An invisible birthmark
When the sky is gloomy And tears fall heavy I wipe them not away Through my blurred lens I see a stubborn beauty Still stands its ground I see the abstraction of light Still dances to its own mystical rhythm And I see the wild of a horse’s spirit
Held in place By invisible forces A tread weaving its way In the space between souls On this night Of the lighter half’s end Connecting our many worlds Welcoming the deepening darkness On the threshold Only a breath from letting go Into the dark embracing whole ~
When the full moon rises I rise with it Soaking up its luminous glow Wrapping a moonbeam, gently Around my exposed soul Before leaping Into the dark waters Of a deeper dream Waning behind me My human skin Waxing before me That which I will never reach
In silence we speak The wind leaving empty-handed Utter transparency In an honest expression The alchemy of vulnerability Piercing thorns Of inevitable love Not yet faded Into the distant dream Of yesterdays ~
Epilogue Some secrets Are not hidden Because they are too dark But because they are too bright Instead, as the light of a Burren blue moon Reflects the light of our closest star So does an Irish summers drop of rain Quietly mirror a She Who is not of
Under the drizzling Burren sky They reached the cave He leaned comfortably Against the large wet rock Creating a dark entrance To an underworld of mysteries He had only met in dreams Where the god of another world Had woken from his slumber And demanded the three entrances Between
Prologue The Great Grandmother sits At the source of creation Weaving a grid of paths crossing Reflected in the short-lived moment Of a raindrop held gently in her web Once in a while The sacred mystery Of her many daughters is revealed Before they evaporate Like raindrops under a
Words evaporating Under the glaring sun Waiting For another rainy day ~
Questioning Wondering Pondering The known And the unknown On the brink Of a new poem Words leading somewhere With a new line or rhyme Strong images Or subtle hints Yet lingering In the background An unspeakable sense Of no-one and nothing Is going anywhere ~
Poets marbles Reflections Of vast and infinite Inner worlds Enchanted worlds Lost worlds And new worlds To come ~
Hanne T. Fisker Photography Art 