The Tree of the Heavenly Way

When the time comes, when you hear the voice in your head,

when the light grows ever dim and the dark is at its darkest yet,

when the signs are there, the way will be lit, the path before you,  

Follow the furrow through the meadow, follow it to the very end,

till you come to the place where stands the tree of the celestial light.

Clasp its gnarled trunk and feel the communion of Earth with Heaven.

Let it lift you gently, let it raise you towards the light from above,

do not fear, do not fret, trust in its wondrous power of release.

It will bear you aloft, comfort and cradle you, lighten your soul,

embrace you in its mighty arms, caress you in its golden mane.

Up and up it will carry you, skyward towards the heavenly light,

you will be as the lightest of feathers, weightless and floating free.

Up and up, ever higher, till there's naught between you and the sky,

till the Heaven-sent spirit descends, flowing over you, body and soul

and wrests you from the gentle grasp of the tree of the celestial light,

to bear you still higher and higher, drawing you up to the firmament.

There you will pause, caught twixt Heaven and Earth, life and death

where the divine soul breaks free of its mortal prison and flutters

gliding through the invisible ether, on its last journey to the Eternal.

When the time comes, follow the furrow through the meadow,

until you come to the great golden tree of the heavenly way,

and there you will find the peace and the calm of abiding Grace

where Light banishes Darkness and where Heaven meets Earth. 

Beyond a bridge somewhere...

Beyond a bridge, that leads the way,

between tall and slender arching trees

that line a long and winding forest road,

there is a spot, they say, where light,

bursting thru with such force and focus,

with such palpable intensity and blaze,

has spawned effects defying nature's law,

reason, and the teachings of experience;

but more than this the rumours also speak

of a strange beam of wondrous flaming light

that, as though heaven-sent, swift descends

to wreak such magic on passing folk

who later speak of having felt a force,

of being swiftly borne aloft above the trees,

of looking down from high on all below,

held there as though by an unseen hand,

for a span of time as none are able to agree

until, as by some magic unknown to man,

they find themselves again on terra firma,

on the selfsame spot now dark in shade,

quite unable to make sense of that which

sense defies by any human measure known,

or any other means conceived to understand

the nature of the seemingly unnatural,

of a beam of blinding light that takes

and lifts and flings and holds quite still,

before it loosens, lets slide to freely flow

back to where moments before one stood

full bathed in the hush of a heavenly light.