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1403) A poem called “Darkest Peru” May 14, 2012

Posted by pete1844 in Poem.
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Draft No 2, written on 13th May 2012

I worked the CD player
identified Play and Pause
and the music started
with instruments and sound effects
the only voice, Beverley
conducting a guided creative visualization
whalesong and waves lapping on the shore
My eyes now closed
I imagined Lake Titicaca
in the Andes of Latin America.
Together with environmental peace and quiet
unpolluted, undefiled and unspoilt
by the beying of the mob of Rome.
I contemplated what lay hid on the lake-bed
an alien artifact perhaps
as in “Defying Gravity”
and “Indiana Jones and the Crystal Skull”
all U.F.O.s and E.B.E.s.
But whilst walking on, in this lakeside paradise
a Stargate portal appeared
a door to another Multiverse world
and after more beach-walking
the environment changed as well
as in a dream, a film, a forgotten memory.
The beach became jungle became waterfall
and always in THIS world
a little way off
He appeared with uncanny accuracy
like a Galley-Freeing Time Lord
in his little blue Police Box
But this was no Aslan the Lion
care of the Church and Narnia
THIS was Divine Magic of a different sort
and it was Baha’u’llah
and His grace
offering a sacred moment of communion.
His eyes gazing at me
with intensity and gentleness
with love and knowledge
that only He can manifest.
Baha’u’llah appears to me
to be like a crack, a rip, a leaking
of the Space/Time continuum
letting pure, spiritual energy and light
and His own love and knowledge
flooding my heart and soul
and re-ordering my brain.
The rip has been there
for 170 years
though I’ve known of it
only since the age of 19 in 1974.
Seeing the slight frame of Baha’u’llah
not tall in stature
but wearing a red/crimson/maroon cloak of patchwork squares.
His long black hair
flowing almost to His waist
THIS, the Manifestation of God
who has been guiding me all my life
for all of the 56 years
since I was born
in London.
He whom I follow,
at times grudgingly
at times stubbornly
and occasionally at times
with a spiritual passion
which defies words and reason.
Only by looking into His eyes
like the road-side dervish
in Mazandaran in about 1847
or Shaykh Hasan i Zunuzi
in the market of Baghdad
in about 1859.
And with my eyes tearing up
behind closed lids
suddenly time was up
and Beverley brought us back down to Earth
back to crass intellectual beta thinking
the alpha thinking of meditation
closed for another time.
My eyes liberally lubricated
from the tear ducts
and now with wide-awake beta
and with an intention
to “write it down”
as a testimony, an inspiration
a poem, for others apart from myself
such as my soul
to enjoy, to be moved, touched or inspired.
As ‘Abdu’l-Baha says in “Some Answered Questions”
though needing to be checked against “The Word”
the inspiration of the Holy Spirit
is the only source of true knowledge,
since tradition, reason, the physical senses
are all subject to error.
To be continued… Time Out in 2 minutes; gotta get back before curfew falls. Bye for now, Peeps and sweet dreams!