You trudge along the muddy path, your feet weary
from their journey. Dark things cast mysterious shadows, oh how
the mind plays such sweet tricks. Creatures of the wooded realms
scamper about you....barely do they notice your intrusions. Nothing
but the beating of your heart to comfort you now. Listen carefully
to the mourning of the wind. Whispers. Something calls to you.
But how can you go on beloved? Strength has challenged your old
bones yet again. Sleep beckons you like the whore in the brothel.
How can you deny such a wanton desire? Tears do nothing more than
leave a fresh trail on the disheveled facade you now bear. You
find your way amongst the Willows. Their weeping maddens the sorrow
you feel. Whispers. Come sit beneath us. Come listen to the stories
of travelers before you. With nothing to gain and nothing to lose
you acquiescence. They start methodically...such a cliche "Once
upon a time....."
Namaste Beloved! Welcome to the Enchantment of
Whispering Willows. Here you will be able to read various works
submitted by our members. There are poems, stories, thoughts,
and even a few words here and there. I hope that these works will
leave their mark on you as they have done on me. Feel free to
email me with your comments on the work that struck you the most,
I will kindly pass it along to the Writer so deserving of your
attention:)
It doesn't interest me what you
do for a living. i want to know what you
ache for, and if you dare to dream of meeting you're hearts longing.
It doesn't interest me how old you are. i want to know if you
will risk
looking like a fool for love, for your dreams, for the adventure
of being
alive.
It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon. i
want to know
if you have touched the center of your own sorrow, if you have
been opened
by life's betrayals, or have become shriveled and closed from
fear of
further pain.
I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without
moving to
hide it or fade it or fix it. I want to know if you can be with
joy, mine or
your own; if you can dance with wildndeses and let the ecstasy
fill you to
the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be
careful, be
realistic, or to remember the limitations of being human.
It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me is true,
i want to
know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself, if
you can bear
the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul.
I want to know if you can be faithful and therefore trustworthy.
I want to
know if you can see beauty, even when it is not pretty every day,
and if you
can source your life from its presence.
I want to know if you can live with failure, yours or mine, and
still stand
on the edge of a lake and shout to the silver of the moon, "Yes!"
It doesn't interest me to know whree you live or how much money
you have. I
want to know if you can get up after the night of grief and despair,
weary
and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done for the
children.
It doesn't interest me who you are, or how you came to be here.
i want to
know if you will stand in the center of the fire with me and not
shrink
back.
It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom you have studied.
i want
to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls
away. I want
to know if you can be alone with yourself, and if you truly like
the company
you keep in the empty moments.
May 1994
You trudge along the muddy path, your feet weary
from their journey. Dark things cast mysterious shadows, oh how
the mind plays such sweet tricks. Creatures of the wooded realms
scamper about you....barely do they notice your intrusions. Nothing
but the beating of your heart to comfort you now. Listen carefully
to the mourning of the wind. Whispers. Something calls to you.
But how can you go on beloved? Strength has challenged your old
bones yet again. Sleep beckons you like the whore in the brothel.
How can you deny such a wanton desire? Tears do nothing more than
leave a fresh trail on the disheveled facade you now bear. You
find your way amongst the Willows. Their weeping maddens the sorrow
you feel. Whispers. Come sit beneath us. Come listen to the stories
of travelers before you. With nothing to gain and nothing to lose
you acquiescence. They start methodically...such a cliche "Once
upon a time....."
R
