Sacred Journey III: Community in the Sun

Alan Drengson, 1979, LightStar Press, Victoria BC

Spiders in the Sun: Indra’s Net
Coyote Times
It Just Goes On…
Wildness There

Spiders in the Sun: Indra’s Net

One day

sun rose red

chased night away.

Day shine

spiders sway

rainbow webs glisten.

Water lenses

sun reflecting spheres

mirrors of universes.

Mandala dews,

each sun caught, flares

against background blues.

Widow spins webs

fixes flies to feed her young

when she is dead.

Perfect days

time stop, no haze.

Hey, spiders in the sun!

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Coyote Times

Coyote, wilderness crier

still howls on the brink of the hill.

She sees her future in the city,

in the lights and noise below.

In a vertical slice of time,

the journeys are simultaneous;

a symphony of the whole,

a chorus of the parts in total time.

We hear all times in this lonesome song;

their calls will never cease.

They are continuous with all the nights

that are gathered

in this one sound.

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It Just Goes On…

In the middle of the clearing,

in the middle of the song,

we pause to hear the echoes

of our moving chorus

grow faint in reverberation.

At the bottom of the breath,

at the bottom of the well,

a silence, a gap where flowers open;

the pointed petals swell

with ten thousand moving charms,

a fan of arms against white.

Life moves at a walk;

and although paces vary

no one is left behind.

In the middle of the clearing,

in the middle of the song

our sacred journey

just goes on.

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Wildness There

Blue flower, sidewalk crack,

delicate, but rooted there.

Blooms for weeks,

trumpet speaks above the din

of passing feet.

A fragment sky catches the eye

amidst the night’s debris;

waits for a bee carrying pollen

from a relative by the sea.

Lamppost showy baskets,

cultivated embers

of a gardener’s sigh;

they pull at us as we pass by.

We clap for their display, but

we cheer for wildness

seemed gone astray—

the blue flower’s patient ways.

Sidewalk fragments,

pieces of sky, grow to sand;

a city passes by.

Flowers stride buildings,

gardens hang in air;

Babylon, Athens, Rome are there

pushing up flowers

and giving off wild seeds…