Tuesday, July 4, 2017

"High Flight" poem by R.A.F. pilot John MaGee

Oh I have slipped the surly bonds of earth and danced the skies on laughter silvered wings.
Sunward I've climbed and joined the tumbling mirth of sun split clouds and done a hundred things you have not dreamed of.

Wheeled and soared and swung high in the sunlit silence. Hovering there, I've chased the shouting wind along and flung my eager craft thru footless halls of air.

Up, Up the long delirious burning blue I've topped the windswept heights with easy grace where never Lark or even Eagle flew.

And, while with silent lifting mind I've trod the high untrespassed sanctity of space. Put out my hand and touched the Face of God.

Pilot MaGee composed the poem beginning at thirty thousand feet and had it complete before he touched down. It was written on an envelope. He died later in a training accident.

Wednesday, June 14, 2017

Man Must Possess and be Possessed

Man Must Possess and be Possessed

Without possessing the Eternal man fills his life with dead dreams and fleeting illusions. 
Without possessing the Eternal man fills his life with false promises and assumptions.
Without possessing the Eternal man fills his life with imitations and vapors.
Without possessing the Eternal man fills his life with self-seeking pursuits and blind ambitions.
Without possessing the Eternal man fills his life with greed regardless of need.
Without possessing the Eternal man fills his life with the vacuum of emptiness and eternal solitary confinement. 

Possessed by the Eternal man's life embraces fresh vision and confident assurances.
Possessed by the Eternal man's life is filled with truth and experiences.
Possessed by the Eternal man's life is filled with the genuine and foundational.
Possessed by the Eternal man's sight focuses on others and their needs.
Possessed by the Eternal man's life is filled by being emptied in service.
Possessed by the Eternal man's life is filled by the innumerable host joining his celebration. 

Monday, June 5, 2017

Thoughts on a Pine Tree

Rain drops hang off long slender needles, made a brilliant green by droplets no longer clinging to cloud.
The earth beneath the living statues is soft and covered in a blanket of brown needles.
Thousands, millions, the blanket has no pattern to the eye, to the giver they tell of history, of storms and snow, of wind and sun, passing days and months, years and generations.
The scent that rises from the moist blanket mingles with living needles and bark. The fragrance is beyond description but not experience.
Breathe deeply and fill your soul with peace and tranquility as almost blinding rays of sunlight reach you through branch, limb and needle.
Steam escapes from hidden rooms beneath the blanket as the sun warms the earth.
The blanket beckons your wearied body, go ahead, multitudes of creatures have already felt the comfort.
The blanket is thick and soft, your hand presses down and the blanket gives to your desire.
Lay back and sense the blanket give and move to your weariness.
The scent, the warmth, the moisture, they approach and beckon to lay with you.
Soon you are wrapped in comfort that fills your very soul, yea, every cell.
From your repose, looking up, the living statues reach into and then become part of the heavens.
Sleep overtakes and you dream of heaven, a land of pines and smells and sweet comfort.