Poetry: 'Faith, Hope, Love, and Luck'

A four-leaf clover found our daughters on St. Patrick's Day 2013. The event inspired the following poem:

In all the time I've taken to arrive at where I have
Under all the stones I've capsized
Amidst the canyons and the dales
The cracks between the concrete
Beneath the shadowed brush
The front, and back, and side-yards of buildings seen & been
Below the broadleaf canopies where nightingales sing
Upon the ground, along the course where thrushes come-and-go
In hopes year-after-year, aft passing of the rain or snow
Not ever—and felt never—seen or see a four leaf clover,
'til the day my daughters say, "Oh, dad, look here at this!"
Be still this heart it lists, after I had slowly sauntered over.

No effort, nor their desire to find...
No time, no search, no piece of minds...
devoted to this shamrock here;
Toward such good fortune they'd been steered!
So long I've searched, til sadness perched;
A dream no more pursued, and me resignedly imbued...
'til what you've searched your life to see...
arrives by way of para 3. And, with it, gifted clarity!
Sweet life & love gifts Rarity, so freely without chase!
The lesson that I've learned this day:
To bloom where you've been placed.

Today's Treasure

A belief's reality is at least in its effect.  — A.O.Reed

On Love and Fear

Love is as we are, and as we have always been. Fear is what occurs when we have forgotten ourselves. Love is ever-present. Fear is an illusory state of existence. It is the haze of uncertainty that persistently veils what genuinely prevails. Fear dwells where Love permits it to. Love is acceptance, and so Love is a generous host; almost patient to a fault. Fear forgets its place when Love forgets itself. It is indebted to Love and takes advantage of this hospitality, mistaking the tenant for landlord. Had Love not accommodated it so, where else might it rest its worrisome head?

Fear sometimes behaves as though Love were not present. And so, we only need be reminded of our true nature and origin: Love. We are Love. Upon this realization the identification with (or 'as') Fear then recedes into the minds that imagine it, just as hurriedly as it had come to their forefront. Love is as we have always been. Fear is our lack of presence. Whensoever absent, Fear naturally presides.

Without Love there can be no certainty; only skepticism and suspicion. So it is fitting that in this state of existence, where the individual struggles to remember themselves as Love, much less their fellow selves as so, that Fear is what is generally identified with and perpetuated. The prevailing culture is then a magnified reflection of this absence, turned in on itself. It is armor and armament to a Love that does not recognize itself. In such a state we may identify ourselves as Fear. We are reactionary, quick to defend and identify with mental positions; replete with insecurity and paranoia.

Until self and selves are made familiar the mistaken identity will remain. This is not because Love is not ready, but because the all-important 'I' will not give in so easily to this realization. Fear is a comfortable thing to be. This is the eviction of Fear. It is the repudiation of false self and selves, and the celebration of the One that we comprise; Love thyself, Love is thyself and Love of All that is. Such is Genuine Love. Where there is Love, Fear has no place. We can not be the one (i.e. Fear) while fully aware of the one we are.

Be Well, Loved Ones...

Albert

Poetry: Untitled

To each a dream we think our own. 
leafing, fluttering, flying, soaring 
through reason,
that bread back to stone...

Appreciate all, as Life is season;
no winter, spring
no summer, fall...
lest this we co-create is pleasing; 
the human beings' dream and drawl.