Sacred Contracts XXI: Surrender

"And think not you can direct the course of love,  
for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course."
 
From the rock ledge Spring  
applies her foundational base
with a soft sponge of moss,
her cigarette fog spilling
from the dressing room to
obstruct the valley window.  
Winter removes her mascara  
with frosted cold cream,  
regaling havoc wreaked
over the last nine weeks;
their laugh reverberates  
the impending change.
 
I dream moments like these,
being privy to backstage
passes between the scenes
of a cyclic dress rehearsal.  
I meld with the music of trees
into a wardrobe of creviced
boulder and layered shale.  
A fallen snag lies amid pines
to become as a lost button  
from nature's waistcoat that
popped off along the trail  
to join a wayward gypsy clan
of treasures camped on  
the wooded floor discovered
by need.  
 
I glance down the mountain
and the trees are stagehands,
extras positioning for the  
next scene, pinning their hair  
with bloomed barrettes and belts
of daffodils around their limbs.
The rocks are worn with age,  
their sharpness rounded, yet  
their inner strength remains  
solid against this mighty cleft.  
Should they be fixed, or should
they be left to erode naturally.  
The dying snag, should she be
fixed, or should she be left to
nourish the forest as intended.  
The pines swaying in the wind,  
those there, and there, missing
various branches, should they  
be fixed or left for the Wind
to whistle its song through  
their snapped ribs.  
 
The woods are teeming  
with many things broken by
the experience of living,  
including our own weather-
beaten hearts. Does that mean  
we need fixed; are we so bad  
as we are? Mature. Beautiful.  
Wizened with ripe experience
in these human confines of bone.  
Would you fix all of that only
to repeat the lesson again;  
or, regenerate from established roots
into a new season growing you
closer to where you want to go.  
 
I see no one that needs fixed here,  
only writers doing the best they can
to bridge distant longing with words.
After all, silence by beautiful pain  
gives birth to the most spiritually  
pure poetry if we surrender to Love.  
~
 
Quote Source:  
http://www.katsandogz.com/onlove.html