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First Light

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  • ErcAshfrd@aol.com
    [Unable to display image] First Light Top heavy in lightness - tumbling out making room for the big moment of waking up into this topsy turvy tickle of self
    Message 1 of 1 , Mar 1, 2003




      First Light

      Top heavy in lightness -
      tumbling out
      making room for the big moment
      of waking up
      into this topsy turvy
      tickle of self
      and wide open into my way,
      I stretch out and make a mark
      in Gods restless stamp of this -
      my new unending perfect day.

      O God I am a wonder
      of greatness
      tipping forward as nothing at all.
      What shall I speak into this lip-licking morning
      of my soul -
      this risen up soufflé of wellness
      this smorgasbord of the whole?
      Not mine to guess
      but answer loves rise-up-and-shine
      reveille taps that call.

      Have I anything to say
      of this love that has dressed me up
      as this a’cappella of my joy?
      I am babbling already like a brook
      already looking for a river mouth to fill.
      I cannot be still
      but must chatter
      and bustle in the bloom.
      Love is looking for a place to stay
      and I must find it room.

      Where are my padding feet
      and the armfuls of flesh
      that pick-me up
      into Loves posture?
      There You are my dance bringer
      silent and true
      and there I linger
      on the breast of You!
      Together we can go far this day
      in the green limbs
      of our charming clay.

      Its a crash course
      and a brief love affair this life
      so I am finding out
      in the time of it
      and making hay in the bold explicit.
      What better way to be,
      but this blessed non-entity
      of the heart of God in me.
      This uprising of how I am meant to be.

      The rattle of the wind upon the window-pane
      the yappy bark of little dogs
      rushing to bite the sunshine.
      The soft movement of the grass
      growing under the feet of the sky.
      The sleepy coughing of the moon
      as it hides its dreams in the dawn.
      God, its great to be the yawn
      of this awakening play
      and again reborn.

      Look! The road to somewhere
      has just arrived at my door.
      Peeping through the now and ever more
      full of the tunes of in and out.
      Nice to be the flounce and flout
      of this parade of morn -
      the sleepy worlds
      first shout
      before the tipsy breakout
      of the chorused dawn.


      love

      eric

      __________________

        Copyright Eric Ashford March. 2003.
       



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