I paid homage to Beauty’s altar
Not conscious that is only skating-rink or…
“Downhill ecstasy.”
And still ignorant: how is possible,
Than good God leaving us at pray of Beauty,
Which paralyze those, who sacrifice own fate.
And I fell astonishment and grief
That life is a line of renunciation
Steady expose on suffering our tender senses.
Finally, punish that way: showing others suffering
Whereas ours are just sentimental tears…

Where is the Beauty
Which affect and same time sublimate ones?

Where is the place for
What fills our self
And leave deep inside emptiness …

Who’s going to judge this?

I, the poet wandering and amazed
Nailed by unhappiness to the wall
By age and poverty,
On which floor of stupidity or ignorance I dwell?
I don't know,
However, I count beads of the words
As rosary,
In Hope of Redemption
And attain light of elevation
All covered with Serenity.
Consistent and quiet with myself alone,
As the greatest longing for Purity -
Which one touches the World by the wise look.

In my dreams, I wander
Among the shady palm tree's alleys,
Where my beautiful, forever, Nefertiti -
Who never gets old,
Calms wrinkled surface of the water
And inserts hand inside familiar gesture,
Bowing her head
To bless Buddha and the whole Kingdom.
Hiding in her *****
The Script of The United Elements, and
Papyrus of The Secret Proportion,
Silences her existence
In front of the threshold at Highest Meditation.

Same time
On the bank of the river Nile
Peasant washes his food,
Squeeze's thorn from his heel
Whole in the prayer and pain.

The countless form of existences
In the Total Kingdom of Being and Suffering,
In the Space of Vanished Events.

In vain to look
In the scrolls of the treasures
Library of Alexandria
Simple prescription.

Rusty voice on the Subway stairs
Disturbing morning contemplation:
“Do you believe in God!?” -
Forcing me to wear suite filter
On my imagination.
Don't stop right there -
I'm telling myself.
Don't stop.

“Do you trust God?” -
On the higher level of meditation
In my mind.
How brave and strong
You must be to
Totally accept?
To believe my Angel Protector
The shield is here...

I'm just a freshman
On my Way.
I'm just at the gate of
The Golden Seeds University.

Mysterious Unmanifested
Welcome by
The Morning sun rays
Warms me great.
New Hope in my heart
Again arising.

Maybe that's next step
In the classroom
The Great and Difficult
Art of Acceptance?

Just
Don't stop right there.
Please,
Don't stop...

* * *
Isaiah 55: 8-11
For my thoughts are not your thoughts,
Neither are your ways my ways,
Declares the Lord.

A bird is a bustle with the nest,
Time growing ripe,
Vintage is coming.

Grapes almost boil in the baskets
Noon, glow,
Sun in the Zenith.

Congeal air waving in the grain,
On the slops grass is almost redden,
And plum-tree is giving the bow.

Who filthy conscience has today?

Leonard Gorski Copyright © 2008

For Emil Varda
Spots we dwell
For while,

People we meet
On the Way...

Call from Unknown
Is a milestone.

The world is a pair
Of wings - to unfold,
The world might be heavy stone.

Every night I look at dark spots
Wild geese sleep on the water.
All flock drifting in the twilight.
Why are birds not flying to the South?

There is The Book of the Knowledge.
There is the Book of the Things
Out of All Recognition.
There is the secret: to know where,
Which Scroll, what and who to belong.

Just myself, until now I can’t find
That mysterious The Library…
Borges says: there is real
Number of the birds,
Even You can’t see and count,
In the motion or for any other reason.
It’s existing over recognition.
All thing: that is not a secret number,
Just we don’t know.

You may imagine:
What will happen when You find
The Scroll of The Universe?

Leonard Gorski Copyright © 2006

In an empty room on the table
Never open, and not finished the book:
"One Hundred Years of Solitude".

On the wall pale crimson roses
Where the clock still runs
In light azure,
As in the picture of Van Gogh's.

On the floor in the middle
Chair,
The smell of silk dress hangs,
And a warm touch on the handrail.

Ajar door softly creaking
Without strings violins concert -
Fragments of "The Most Beautiful
An embodiment of The Beauty",
"Welcome Silence" - in E-minor,
And "Impossible Love".

I would like to
Build up
Pyramids of sounds,
Sylvan corridors of
Golden cork pines - where
Spats of the sun
And single rays
In the spider’s web,
And further artificial gardens
Of coniferous scent of the resin.
Touch the cloud on the forest pond,
Taste of cherry on your lips………

Wait!
How many senses?
Five?

It is time for Meditation.
Take a deep Breath……

That great emptiness in my heart
For years,
Spacious as the most distant dream
In which You appear suddenly…
For to fulfill me of Your beauty,
And praise the day and the light of raising,
For not to the precipice in space
Of the missing events as countless things:
Suffering and joy in the solitude of
Life…

That everything - to feel
The exhale of Eternity,
Inhale of Love…

To Be…


Again, and again
Reality tunes up:
Inflow and the outflow of the waters,
The fullness of the Moon and New Moon,
Rising Sun and Sunset,
Falling of leaves and shooting of buds,
Waters circulations around the Glob,
Life - Love - Death and
New Life.

Rhythm and rocking,
The Rise and Fall,
Inspiration and Exhalation
Countless forms of Existence.

Whosoever has the access in
The Fullness of the Beauty and Life?
At front of the Being
Which lasts as an invisible smile:
Mona Lisa or Buddha?

Whosoever participates in
The total suffering of Christ’s
Painful Mystery?

That everything - to feel
The exhale of Eternity,
Inhale of Love…

To Be…


How much do You need
From it
To praise each day by
Art and Work?

How much do You need
To jump into a day, anew
As into a water
With a hope, You can once at last
Find the Secret Script
Which is not soaked through yet, in the bottle…
To read it!


That everything - to feel
The exhale of Eternity,
Inhale of Love…

To Be…



July - November 2008
Leonard Gorski © copyright

When so amazed - listen intently
Far night echoes,
That stillness wonders you,
Which everything embraces:
Collect itself in its silence,
Like you can’t possess yourself.
And get in one grasp -
In the ray which illuminates the tree,
In the stone’s accomplished shape,
In the unity…

Which everything embraces
By the Light……………….

The poet – nightingale,
Singing his sad, nostalgia song,
When moon in full.
Walking under green branches
Has Met Guru. Who was sitting under the tree.

Guru: Free yourself, leave your burden...

Poet: I can't give up my dreams.
Without it, I will be nothing, nobody.
That is all I have!

G: Don't be attached to it.
Don't be dependent on anything.
Don't be a slave of your poor - yet – mind...
Remember:
You are more than that...

P: Maybe I need your guidance?

G: Master will reveal himself inside of you
Or will come from outside.
When you Be Ready...

P: In that case – when I'll be ready
Guru is for what?

G: Go take a deep look inside of you...
You will probably find yourself
And Acceptance (with the small letters
In The Book of Universe - for first...).
Then you will Be Ready...

P: Read for?

G: There is nothing behind or upfront.
Just To Be. And
Be Ready...

For my son Kamil

Waiting for the highest level of initiation
I was looking at small regular things.
I know, it’s doesn’t matter: how things show up.
You have to climb up to illumination…
Then You find yourself Inside.
Then Big Silence comes to you,
Bringing total concentration.
Easy to recognize, because
When You there, no questions
To answer… There is no need.

Meantime I smoke a cigar,
And whisper for the small thing:
Just to begin meditation,
After fulfilling my stomach,
And have a nice coffee…

Leonard Gorski Copyright © 2006

Then is coming
Mist of the colors,
Cover the sounds.
Then branches
Are bending for thanks.
My heart shortly breathing
In the try to rise
Together with waves
Of mystery river
Over silent stones.


Copyright ©2006 Leonard Gorski

Don't go after the first hit of the word
But don't avoid friendly mention
Of the Master,
If you can -
The drops penetrate the stone
Same you, be patient
In ceaseless effort
Until good spirits will unexpectedly gather
Under your roof
On the cover of the table of yours, they do leave a stain
Of red vine
And soon fulfill you wish
It will happen – just like that!
Anything that is possible under Sun...

The World – however, limits you sketch -
Will open its gates,
And will accept you -
Who you are.