Portent
Amidst the burst of joy
In pink spring blossoms
Early morning birdsong
Reborn brooks and gamboling lambs
On the hillside…
An ominous gathering storm
Brews in the pit
of my usually tranquil stomach,
In the dark hollows
Behind my liquid eyes
Undefinable to others
But palpable to the Geiger counter
Of my soul.
I feel the stirring
of an existential angst
Such as I’ve never felt
To this extent
In the backward glance
Over my life’s journey.
What is happening
In our world to date?
Is it the beginning of the end times
I was warned of by the angels
in no uncertain terms
In my innocent teen years?
I feel it is upon us.
The heavy descent of evil
Casts an interminable shadow
Across our verdant beloved lands
Across our rich rotund globe.
The faint smell of death
Desired, designed, determined (possibly?)
To cull humanity’s reach
Upon the rich green grasses of Gaia.
Planned for eons
In the dark halls of destiny’s reach
The war of Heaven and Hell
Playing out like a chess game
On and through the unsuspecting
Human race.
The end times
The birthing times
A split between two
diametrically opposed realities
Each struggling to find
Seeming supremacy
To win the battle of apparent
Good and evil.
Is there a way,
Could there be a way,
A tender possibility even
Of union between these grueling
Dwelling opposites?
I do not know,
Though I do desperately care
To wrestle with this shadow,
Unresolved dilemma,
Other side of Self,
And tease out the harmony
The sweet harmony
From the present cacophony
Perhaps to bring unity to disparity
Beauty to discord
Grace to strife.
One by one,
We stop and listen
Look and struggle to birth
Our true Self
The Sovereign Self
To bring to bear on the game of life.
Following our deepest solo call
Part of the wild symphony
Of the whole.
And slowly slowly
Like a flock of swans
We rise up and start to soar –
Lifting the earth
And all of us
To the higher quest
The deepest tones
Of pure unequivocal love –
Our final redemption.
© Julie Tara (5.29.21)