Sketching

Fast,
superficial, at first,
eye to hand to eye,
yet pointing deeper,
probing beneath the flat line
toward those dimensions
where light and shadow meet
in substance, form and life;
you have to dig a little deeper
to know what is really there.

Find,
find me;
find me in shadow,
find me in light
find me as substance, form and life;
trace the world around me,
place me firmly in it,
then take my hand,
hold me close
and tell me that I’m home.

© 2012 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

Point/Counterpoint

I emerge from a womb of prayer

into the moonlit night
to find you with me.

Where one had been alone,
now two walk together
over our desert landscape
of being and imagining.

One speaks,
            the other hears
                        and responds—

More and more, call and response
            leads to gentle ponderings
                        and conversation;
a ritual of exploration,
wherein all boundaries shrink—
openings appear and widen,
            inviting entry.

This dialogue becomes
            less about words,
                        more about touching,
            even melding
—an attempt at embracing
the challenge of all openings,
while still finding new entries,
            and deeper meanings,
until finally conversation
            becomes unnecessary,
as our thoughts weave and interleave,
braiding being beyond anything called self.

Ah, what comes after such requiting,
but merging into one,
            again and again,
with equal measure of knowing
            and forgetting
            and discovering
            and remembering,
delighting in the dance of your will
            with my volition,
opposites attracting
            without distracting
from the Truth that is us and All,
            that is now,
                        that is new,
a new birth in Creation,
spinning from withinnerly inward out.

Harmonics rise,
sounding, soaring, celebrating
over our timeless duet;
new music
for a newer dawn.

© 2011 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

Quieter Condensations

The circles of my life are ever widening;
like the rings shaped in the pool by the falling tear,
of joy or of sorrow;
they reach out with hands that are joined,
or will be joined,
or will be joined again,
in the passing moment,
on a rose-scented breeze.

I have discovered two things in my life,
only two things of meaning, of worth,
and these two truths I know,
or apprehend:
Love and Unity.

These truths,
these beings of light,
rise up with the sun,
quietly scented, ascendant evaporations
of quieter condensations:
the collected dreams and thoughts
of all our days and all our ways,
to come and gone,
and shimmering most Now.

These rise up, offering in beauty
the better parts of us,
individual and communal;
our hopes and aspirations fly with them,
unbeknownst,
yet palpably singing a soft evolution,
an unfolding,
like the nascent bud,
whose unraveling releases its sweet and unending scent
into the breezeways of consciousness,
so that I can tell you this Now.

And as the circles of my life ever widen,
I know that Love and Unity
are met in me,
and that, starting now and ever,
and with all my befores,
and all my latters,
I shall wake,
I shall wake and keep waking,
as i rise, As I Rise, AS I RISE
with the quietly rose-scented, ascendant evaporations
of quieter condensations.

© 2010 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen