(originally posted on October 18th 2013 at vulnerablog.com)
Woke up in the middle of the night after a super strange dream of being circled by a secret code of men. I asked them to break the circle, which they did and I was awoken by this really powerful wind and sound from ‘the outer edges of the solar system’ that was going to burst my eardrums. I was a little freaked on waking and needed to write something, this is what came out. As always I don’t bother editing anything . . .
truth seeker
Hey, truth seekers, how’s your search for truth going?
Tireless digging, out there, in all weathers, how does it weather you?
In what way does it arch your back,
Curl your feet, ache your hands,
Cripple and/or free your mind
Working with such a spade?
How often does the placement of your weight
To dig
Begrudge you?
Do you place your foot upon the
Shoulder of the cutting blade
And the weight of your conscience
With delicacy and precision
So as to avoid unnecessary pain?
And to be aware of the necessary?
So as to achieve a deeper cleaner cut
Into the unknown?
Or do you just dig
And clear
Through matter,
Whatever needs removing?
Are you sometimes
Never-endedly
Spludging through
Backwash
Murky puddles
Gatherings of recurring muck
Trying to clear the way
Trying to get the teeth of your digging
Back engaged
Into the earthiness
Of what needs attention
And certainly
Of what doesn’t.
Oh truth seeker!
How are the palms of your Cosmic hands?
Are they blistered from handling
Too much forward ploughing?
Or are they weathered to perfection,
Guide lined with the only way there is?
Seeker,
Remember,
To put down your spade,
Or to hand it over
To your watchers, your protectors
And allow yourself to
Horizontalise
And take in
the glory of the heavens,
The water of the clouds
The rays of the sun
The beauty of the stars
Into your cells and heart
And be what you are digging away at
For a moment.