For Michael
Within shadowed reaches of my soul you move:
Essence of my being, Blood of my vigor.
Softly compelling, a whisper, your voice.
I listen so intently.
Setting my feet into motion,
following again and again
your whisperred promises
out into the night,
Searching
for your sweet visage,
Wondering where I lost you.
Summoning sensation:
Your warm embrace,
the mist of your Whispered welcome;
caressing as it falls upon my cheek,
I make of myself just another Shadow
in this World that We might Touch
and I Pray that you do not Suffer this Separation, as have I.
I would that my Love be spared this tortured longing.
Callaghan Grant 1995
Love leaves us all so tattered,
what is there more to do,
than to cherish every shattered tear,
and make a shrine each bruise?
Those wee gold scars only make you shine
in the instant you so choose
to call them "just"
and "tribute fair"
to the Grail
filled with
your Truth.
Callaghan Grant
4/27/2013
We create our own suffering. Things happen. People do and say things thoughtlessly and then other people ascribe significance to that thoughtlessness. Yet thoughtlessness is empty. It is those assigned significances that cause suffering. Thoughtlessness is JUST thoughtlessness. Like one can project and see things easily in utter darkness, we, in the darkness of our souls and minds, project upon thoughtlessness "malice of intent". Once you see this cycle of suffering: of projection of malice where none existed, you have a key to unlock the door through which you can escape suffering--and help others to do so as well. But the choice is always yours.
You have never harmed anyone. They projected upon you the role of "the guilty" that they might occupy the role of "the innocent". They unwittingly condemned and damned you that they might be innocent and "saved". The only real way to save them is to show them that it was their selves that assigned the significance that caused their suffering. Sadly, in most cases, people are very attached to their stories in which others were "wrong" and "condemned" and "damned" that they might enjoy the position of being "innocent" and "saved". The reaction to being shown that they made it all up is usually one of hostility. That's ok. You plant the seed and bless it and bless them in whom you plant it, and then you move on, loving them and knowing that the seed will sprout in its proper time.
Your compassion and empathy are sweet and serve as a splendid example of love and compunction to us all, but you are not, and have not ever been, guilty or the cause of suffering. You have never harmed anyone. They harmed themselves. Whenever you have wanted and tried to hurt another, out of pain/anger, it was only your SELF you injured. The penance you put upon yourself does yet more harm to you and to others who see you acting out this drama and then believe in guilt. You are innocent and for so long as you wear your self imposed guilt, you hold captive to the illusion those who are still in the story that "you hurt them". You cannot help them find forgiveness until you accept truly for your self that there is nothing, and has never been anything, to be forgiven.
It all happens, NOT TO you/us, but FOR us--and AS us. There is NO division between the inner subjective experience and the perceived "outer" manifestation. Life is a mirror.
We are the gods of our own reckonings.
I love you ALL. You are innocent before my own forgiven eyes. Only the eyes of the forgiven can see redemption everywhere.
Would that I could give it to you all. We would then dance and my sweetest dream would be realized. May we all be reconciled.
The Fiddler's (Laughing) Bride
With no pockets in my garments
I am bound to leave this world.
I'm going to the Kingdom
where I'm the Kings wayward girl.
We've had a strong thing goin' on now
for a real long time.
Once and accountant to that Fiddler,
I am become His laughing Bride.
Well, I won't be goin' without you
because you know that ain't the way.
The King doth wait eternally
for all who've gone astray.
He's a real mench like no other:
His patience has no end.
He will lift you up on Eagle's wings;
Your broken heart He'll surely mend.
Now we're all goin' to the Kingdom.
Our only choice in this is "When".
You can choose to hate
and languish,
or you will the world befriend.
For the Kings so loves His children
that He'll never turn away,
and when you come into the Kingdom
your comin' home to your own
wedding day.
Don't need no pockets in my garments,
Love is all that with me flies.
It's only Real if its Eternal,
so Love is all I leave behind.
They can't tax it.
They can't steal it.
It doth not rot nor oxidize.
The more you give it,
the more you have it.
Love is the treasure of The Wise.
Yeah, we're all goin' to the Kingdom.
Our only choice in this is "When".
You can choose to hate
and languish,
or you will the world befriend.
For the Kings so loves His children
that He'll never turn away,
and when you come into the Kingdom
your comin' home to your own
wedding day.
Callaghan Grant 2010
What I Miss
His eyes,
shining
when they catch
my gaze,
ever present
upon him;
The love
in his voice
when he laughs
at my ongoing
antics,
designed
to make him
certain
happiness has,
at last,
found him;
The feeling
of his heart
hammering
in my own chest
as we hold each other
even in rest;
His hands
in my hair;
The scent of him
on the sheets,
weeping
from the hamper,
everywhere…
The sound
of my name
upon his lips;
His chest
against my back,
legs tangled
with mine,
while we sleep,
or at least
I try—
too enamoured
to miss
a single
blessed moment
of gazing
upon his sweet visage,
or the chance
to steal
"just
one
more
kiss".
An Faolchu Gaelach
The Irish Wolf
May 2, 2013
Crystal Blue Regard
My heart
had so long been
but a silken
thread of shadow,
stretched taut
by time’s turning:
poised,
impassive~
a silenced note,
this strop
without accord.
In slumber
whispered
your heart to mine,
songs of silence,
serene belonging;
of union lost
and hearts unbound;
shadows dancing,
souls entwining.
Now sings
this chord
so tuned by times.
Resonating,
thrums the calling,
and Passion's wings
lash the air
to stay aloft
unquenched
and yearning.
Yet in the dark
no beacons burn.
So drowns the spirit
in fluid churning.
Aloft,
the wings
that buoy my heart:
marooned between
shadowed dreams
and silent pools
of crystal blue regard.
An Faolchu Gaelach
The Irish Wolf
1995
Dauntless
"Dauntless,"
I've heard it said of me
by those who badger
with all the same cautions
I hear you
whispering in my ear.
But what have I to fear, my love ~
that I might die?
I wither
for the want of you
even now,
and when I lay down
each night to rest
I have but one
unfailing prayer:
Oh, let me die
to this dream world
where we are apart,
and awaken
in any world
where I
am in your arms.
An Faolchu Gaelach
The Irish Wolf
1995
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