Who can feel what can’t be thought?

Who can think what can’t be taught?

You and I.

We are the apple of our teacher’s eye.

In to this vast external world

The Spirit stretched itself.


At the sound of the Word

The earth did quake!

Fashioned in Fire

For its sake.

Held for an Age

In a fist of ice

The Gambler stood

Clenching the dice.

Then all of a sudden

He let go His hand,

 And placed on the earth

In His Image

A Man.

Male and female created He them,

Soft as a flower

And strong as a stem.

But Beauty itself

Was puffed up in Perfection.

In the Mirror of Life

She caught her reflection.

And Beauty was shamed,

And the Earth was blamed!

Now Guilt and Innocence

One the other named.

The body of Love morality maimed.

And what was immortal

Now had to die.

The maggot had appeared

In the apple of His eye.

“But I would not confine you

Nor seek to undermine you.

But I will give you the Time and the Space

And hope you can work your way

Back to this place.”

Now four score year or more

Reveal life’s secrets hold no store.

For everything I would not see

I gave the name of ‘Mystery’.

Though like a tempest I had raged

And lived in one lifetime every Age.

And though I could say

That I’d learned compassion

And learned to love

In every fashion.

Now toe by toe

And fist unfled,

I lie dying on my bed.

The snow lies deep across the plain

Covering each memory

Of joy and pain.

Laying waste the land

I thought I’d gained.

But in the face of life’s futility

Beauty makes a friend called Humility.

And the mirror shatters.

Dust to dust.

And Beauty is free

To fly Home.

At last!

© Felicity Buirski Spring 1988


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