Summer Of Love
One voice, one calling, one vision, one beat
Everyone leaving the march of defeat
One answer, one stillness, one reason to be
everyone high on the skies of decree
One soul, one journey, one gathering race
Everyone knowing that freedom’s in place,
One yearning, one burning, one glow on the skin
Everyone has it, the wisdom within.
One Smile… worthwhile… one chapter of grace
Everyone ready to open the gates.
One eye to the sky, one chanting of ‘Om’
Everyone singing, one power, one song.
One Beautiful chime, one strike of the bell
Everyone needs it, the leap from the shell,
One peace, one heaven, one gift for the soul
Everyone stunned as the wonder unfolds.
One sun, one sparkle, one kindness, one word,
Everyone poised, no clarity blurred,
One look, one touch, one glow from above
And we become one…one summer of love
Posy is walking a labyrinth in the sand. She twists and turns. With each turn, she sees more of herself. She enters her reflection and finds her heart, her feelings, her thoughts. Out she flows again, around another bend. Again her reflection appears! She feels at home in this repetitive dance of life meeting life.
Posy is nearing the centre. The bends are twisting more sharply now. The meetings are more intense and the reflections of hidden parts of herself more astounding and more valuable.
It was a convoluted path, but finally she is at the centre. The labyrinth is now inside her. She is who she is, because of each twist and turn and the self-awareness that every reflection has brought her. She is every reflection – she is the All.
There is no standing-still at the centre. Posy turns and retraces her steps outwards, to revisit all the bends in the path, all the people, to speak of her vision.
The vision of the One in the many . patterns reflected . Life dancing and exploring in the labyrinth of everyday life.
‘She can’t hear you . what is she doing? . running circles in the sand!’
‘Lost in her little world as usual. Posy! We’re having our picnic now!’
‘Mummy, I am you and you are me, did you know that?’
‘Yes darling . are your hands clean? . here’s your sandwich.’
Posy is five years old and after lunch she’ll run in circles again.
The True Reality
All that we think of as real
and claim that we know to be true
is no more than mist and shadow
wisps of white on the blue
And all that we think has happened
mere images reflected in glass!
At the end of all things we know
Only love will have come to pass