The Great Force

A reflection from 2015 on the great force within and the power it has to shape all reality.

The Great Force

The force arises,
As if from nowhere.
In its wave,
Come murder, death and destruction.

From far, far away,
A force of equal strength arises
And thrusts its wave into the other.
Between two waves,
Come murder, death and destruction.

But beyond them,
A far more powerful force arises.
A force that stems from understanding and love.
It’s game is small – attending to root causes and shifting power.

The great force cannot be extinguished.
It does not live in time
But dwells in the heart of all living things.
It seeks vitality through difference and sameness
And it does not take sides,
Because it knows no right and no wrong.
Only how things happen.

The great force moves however fast or slow it needs to,
Through the minds hearts, actions, speech and feelings
Of all living things.
It has no name and needs no name.
Yet it has been called countless things.

It arises where it is most needed –
Spontaneously
But there are few who recognise it
And even fewer who know how to express it.

It is there,
In the darkest moments of human history
And there in the greatest natural catastrophes.
It is there,
In the dawning of the ages of awakening
And there when all life is thriving.
It is there,
In the glory of the day light
And in the secrets of night.

The great force is ever unfolding
And always renewing.
It has no preferences
But illuminates all choices.

When all that man perceives,
Turns to darkness
And all that he feels is despair.
The great force will continue playing away inside him,
Waiting for just the right moment to emerge.

When enough humans feel despair,
A great emergence will leap forth from within
And the great force will forge the way.
Always ready to bring man to his knees
And lift him up into the light.
Where at last he can see what he is
And let the great force blossom inside him.

 

© R.J. Hudson 2015.

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Nailing Smoke To The Wall (Mask)

I wrote this poem in 1996, at a time in my life where I was trying to make sense of my past and my identity. I have always been fascinating by time, memory and mystery and how they play out in our lives. In this poem I play around with the mystery and reality of memory and impermanance.

Nailing Smoke To The Wall (Mask)

In the arm I drift :
Overtures into overtures chaos into chaos,
Dreams into dreams.
Earth forever turning humanity standing still.
Oceans ebb and flow across the translucent mirrors of my soul.
Two bridges converge into one – thoughts creaking actions sleeping;
The doors of my childhood museum come crashing down –
The little boy inside me smiling like a crescent moon :
I remember ! I remember ! How could I forget ?

Of all these things that I have seen and all these places that I have been
Nothing lasts forever.
Human identity
Scored in the notes of my heart.
Woe,
‘tis time who yanks upon my twisted yoke –
In this reign of the I,
‘tis time who cradles this callous tide of memories –
In this rain of the eye.

Each time that I look – at this web that I weave
I see a god within
And I know :
Each man is a mask Each mask is a man.
Fate seals the lips of immortality,
Yet the mystery which flickers and fades will never unfold,
Always beckoning like night which trails through the eyes.
Feasting upon our human frailties,
While we dance among Adam’s ribs.

And so I plant the seed of hope on ambitions tongue,
The whining winds of fear ruffle the webs in my eyes
And I am licking wounds that bind the seal of space,
Trying to nail smoke to the wall.
Soon, this mortal linkage will disassemble
While I, perish beneath the ruins of memory.
Must I ask you : What mystery will remain when I am dead ?
And of the angel called memory : Quis custodiet ipsos custudes ?
(Who will guard the guard himself ?)

 

© R.J. Hudson 1996.