Thursday, May 27, 2010
LIGHT OF A DIFFERENT FREQUENCY
They call it the ascending.
The soul divesting itself
of all the nonessentials
like a pilot desperately
throwing things overboard
trying to keep the plane aloft
in the storm,
or a wagon made lighter
as it struggles to make it
over the next steep hill.
It is laborious work.
It takes years or lifetimes
of effort.
It comes little by little,
the tiny increments of joy,
the ongoing intervals
of pain.
Always there is a polishing,
a honing.
A smoothing away of the
flaws,
the imperfections.
Then something grows lighter
within.
Shift to a higher register.
Light of a different frequency.
Pulsations flowing like light
or breath.
Heart crying its rapture,
silence like pain.
Who can find words
for this constantly moving
upward, this always being lifted
to a higher plateau,
where the blood grows thinner,
the atmosphere
ever more refined.
(from "A Cloth of Fine Gold")
