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Kenshō Mar 2015
When my mind is
vacant and empty,
I can sense the Lord
Orchestrating beauty
From the heart of the void.

Tranquility of a still morning
Is worth more to me
Than everything and more.
Compared to the stress
Of the speeding world.
-
Seán Mac Falls Dec 2014
In braze, silent breeze of dreams incantations,
Shiva arms sway in the forest dark, mushroom,,
Cloud, lord with fungi, mosses whose clinging
Shades of branches, braids deep, forking stories
Of old, brooding cauldron Druids, sidles Eastern
Spindrift words of Sanskrit spake, told in veined
Sacred hands unfound, celestial spines, moulded
Green, in the windy monkish statutes of the fallen
And single handed claps of the missionary leaves.
The hazel's unusual branch formations make it a delight to ponder, and was often used for inspiration in art, as well as poetry.

The bards, ovates and druids of the Celtic day would intently observe its crazy curly-Q branches. Doing this would lead them into other worlds of delightful fantasy. Much the same way our modern imaginations can be captured by a good movie, the creative Celts were artistically motivated by the seemingly random and wild contortions of the hazel.

A more commonly known fact is that the hazel is considered a container of ancient knowledge. Ingestion of the hazel nuts is proposed to induce visions, heightened awareness and lead to epiphanies. Indeed, the legend of Fionn Mac Cumhail tells of his gaining the wisdom of the universe by simply coming in contact with the essence of the hazel nut.
v.
||
a voice of an angel
and the heart of a devil,
lead me not into temptation--
I know they say it was an apple
from the tree of knowledge,
but are you sure it wasn't a pear,
because that hour glass body looks
much more luscious than any apple
i've ever eaten.
temptation?
Dustin Lanham Jun 2014
emerging with wings.        
                                           up the waterfall he rose
The humble koi swims
Nathan Squiers May 2014
I've trekked across the deserts 'til there was sand beneath my skin,
And I've swam under the oceans 'til I started growing fins.
I've found myself in perils from which none before could escape.
From frozen caves to scorching skies; from rolling sands to sinking mud.
And, after all my travels, I've decided to go back into the Blood.

I have scaled so many mountains, my hands began to take their shape.
I've fallen victim to the dangers of all natures of landscape.
But through it all there was not a single war I couldn't win.
You see, I was born of far worse; birthed from a visceral flood,
And, after all my travels, I've decided to go back into the Blood.

A product of the darkness, I am proud to wear my sin,
Like a badge to prove my source to every place I've been.
And, though I am immortal, I'll wear my cape upon the cape,
When the End of Times arrives to carry all into the Scud.
But on this day my travels wish me to go back into the Blood.
I was inspired by the late & great Robert Frost's style of feeding the following stanza's starting rhyme in the prior's body. Utilizing this rhyming "bridge", I decided to focus on trying to convey a brief-yet-eternal story that takes my love of vampire lore into account with classic, Odyssey-style grandeur (somehow a Nordic-like concept with "The Scud" came into being--I might play more with that idea in a future piece). In either case, here's a hodgepodge of nomadic, vampire-driven, Frost-inspired gnarliness.

— The End —