With all

One day, not distant, not far,
Awoke I to an orange ball of light,
a marble of fire in the heavens,
Laid I my booth upon its neck,
striding into the distant stars,
Never I a glance over my shoulder,
eyes turned to the mysterious universe,
There I became lost within the void,
finding that for which I had searched,
Lifting I fingers of contradiction,
truth pulsed beneath my callous skin,
Knowing I am one with creation,
that creation is one with all,
this day, this moment, this now.

©2017, Donald Harbour

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Words to live by

However many holy words you read,
however many you speak,
what good will they do you
if you do not act on upon them?
Whatever words we utter
should be chosen with care
for people will hear them and
be influenced by them for good or ill.
Better than a thousand hollow words,
is one word that brings peace.
In the sky, there is no distinction of east and west;
people create distinctions out of their own minds
and then believe them to be true.
The way is not in the sky,
the way is in the heart.
A jug fills drop by drop.
Every human being is the author
of his own health or disease.
To understand everything
is to forgive everything.
In a controversy the instant we feel anger
we have already ceased striving for the truth,
and have begun striving for ourselves.
No one saves us but ourselves,
no one can and no one may,
we ourselves must walk the path.

This poem is written with the words of a man named Siddhārtha Gautama, the Buddha. I am not a Buddhist however if one were to internalize his words, they would change that persons life forever. It is that simple. May they bring you reflection and peace.

©2015, Donald Harbour

I believe in change, nothing more

Change, we all change, life
is change. From the day of birth
change begins, we are a journey
of change. As a caterpillar becomes
a chrysalis to emerge a butterfly,
we exist in this cocoon of life to
emerge, changed. Our reality is death,
change from the material to the ethereal,
not an ending, a beginning, a wondrous,
marvelous participation in spiritual
evolution, our eternal existence,
the movement of energy through time
and space. The joining of the eternal
common thread. It has always been,
what has always been, and, it will
always be eternal. In change we
will once again join the spirituality
of creation’s cusp, to be born again.

©2015, Donald Harbour

Night wind

Hubble telescope; Pillars of Creation in the  Eagle Nebula.

Hubble telescope; Pillars of Creation in the Eagle Nebula.

The celestial wind is whispering tonight,
a voyager from the beginning of time,
dusty ancient castaway breath of the stars.
Where have you been, what have you seen,
did you skirt the Pillars of Creation,
did you watch the birth of new stars,
did you teach the planets a song to sing?
The sky is your concert hall, your ballroom
Is it you that makes the heavenly lights twinkle.
There the bright pinpoints beckon, toying,
challenging creatures to ride your zephyr,
feeling the breeze of your alluvium is kindred,
and, I wonder if what you are, am I also?

So mote it be

Today, spoke I to a man old in the woods,
spoke of stones in the dark forest,
stones that knew of humankind and time,
spoke of ancient age before now.
before what we have written,
spoke of before what we call known,
these stones mottled with aeons,
weathered by the earth and its work,
these stones remembered and watched,
remembered and spoke of past before,
these scribes of the giant cataclysms,
watching the ancients descend to earth,
eyes of granite open to the past,
watching the unfolding of the future,
knowing what passed would again be,
watching the sons of soil in greedy toil,
brethren to the manna of Mother Earth,
descendent of the distant stars,
brethren to the woodland creatures,
now unknowing of who or what they were,
brethren of the stones, woods, water,
I am you, you are I, we are eternity,
spoke these watching brethren,
and thus the Gods said so mote it be.

©2014, Donald Harbour

Dali got it right

Last night I happily dreamed,
Our world’s ship turned upside down,
Giant oaks hung suspended in the air,
While birds flew on the ground.

Air was not polluted for breath,
All water pure for drinking too,
The earth’s creatures took photographs,
Of caged humans in their public zoo.

It was a world of imaginations,
Where peace reigned supreme,
Where guns were licorice sticks,
And oil was frothy whipped cream.

Blue skies were always overhead,
Rivers and lakes placidly flowed,
Fish were scaled in sparkling diamonds,
Multicolored butterflies paved each road.

Cows were made for milk and mooing,
Chickens cheerfully clucked a chicken song,
Lions laid beside fluffy white lambs,
No one ever heard the words: “This is wrong!”

There were no gods or seraph,
No torture or misguided religious grief,
No war mongers, government or politicians,
Pontificating their bellicose belief.

Pink peddle-pushers road horseback,
Through fields of limeade green,
Not found were homeless without homes,
Unbranded tennis shoes were only seen.

Dali was captain of this wondrous ship,
Sailing over the sea of cosmic space,
The passengers of his whimsical bark,
Different hues of the same human race.

Dawn pulled me from the dream,
It whispered a new beginning had begun,
Startled I realized in a jolt of epiphany,
All of us, could make this year, the one.

©2014, Donald Harbour

Prophecy

In the dust of desert sands,
Among the ruins of arrogant men,
The pages of time are still written,
Where waters flowed, the dry bed aches,
Buried beneath millenniums forgotten, lost,
Dreamers sleep, soul to soul, bone to bone,
You will not know me, nor I you,
I am because, I was and will ever so be,
Though the earth may split asunder,
The mud bricks may crumble and disappear,
The knowledge on plaster walls unknowable,
Know this: the calamity of this past,
Will become the work of your future,
To be buried by the ritual of your passing,
Joining all that were before,
Consumed by the creatures and the soil,
Sleeping the endless, godless sleep,
Of having been, and nothing more.

©2014, Donald Harbour