Kundalini Splendor

The Bright Field
By R. S. Thomas
(1913 - 2000)

I have seen the sun break through
to illuminate a small field
for a while, and gone my way
and forgotten it. But that was the pearl
of great price, the one field that had
treasure in it. I realize now
that I must give all that I have
to possess it. Life is not hurrying

on to a receding future, nor hankering after
an imagined past. It is the turning
aside like Moses to the miracle
of the lit bush, to a brightness
that seemed as transitory as your youth
once, but is the eternity that awaits you.

(I like this poem because it captures one of those unexpected moments when life itself seems a miracle reflected in some aspect of nature--here a field, but it could be anything--a tree, a flower, a distant mountain, a net of leaves on the ground in autumn. Recently I woke from a dream and realized that in the dream the bark of a great tree was shining with great luminescence. It was a transcendent moment, and I marveled that the memory had survived the dream perception (and thought it a rather odd dream).
Then, a few days later, I came across just such a tree--not far from my house. I stood there in awe at the beauty and incredible arrangement of the tree before me. I can't swear it was the same one as that of my dream, but it certainly was the identical experience.
I think such moments are reminders of the sacred quality of our universe--we cannot make such experiences happen, but we can be open to them when they come.)

(photo found on poetrychaikhana)