Sunday, July 22, 2012

The Journey by Hilary Llewellyn–Williams

Setting out again, taking the road again

that leads to some new city


or, for the time, Geneva,  Avignon,

Toulouse or fabled London; setting out

in the dark on this purse full of whispers –

go there, take this, speak to that man

who bears the sign we know of – hurriedly

fastening the points of my long hose

     seeming natural to me now

abandoning these streets, these squares

these clever, spiced gardens, in my heart

      a vow to return

and a lifting spirit, a joy

taking flight, driving me on.

I shall wheel round and round

this world like a Moon, like a comet

       leaving a fiery trail

Never resting until I have seen

the City of Light accomplished

and all my friends safely installed therein

gathered from here and there. With this dream

I fill my spare moments waiting in the rain

for promised horses, or a weary trudge

across town after an absent-minded fool:

      all the loose, empty hours

between me and my destination. Tonight

the sky is plunged thick with stars

my wild companions, hurtling with me

to an unknown end; which does not matter –

only the journey matters. I breath

clean mountain air: a vision

of Nola brushes past. Adocentyn.

Perfect place, place that never was

nor shall be ever, compels me.

No end, then, to the dizzy Universe,

       no end to my journeying.

In ‘Hummadruz’ 1987
and picture By Victor Schauberger

Tuesday, July 17, 2012

Understanding the Higgs 1: Frozen light | Adrift among the stars