I’ve been slacking in posts because I am currently on vacation in Africa. I’ve been visiting family that I have always heard of but didn’t remember. I realized that not many people here understand spirituality and are ignorant to the universality of the metaphysical language that I speak. It has come to my attention that my very only family believes i’m some sort of sorcerer… or magician which is not a good thing around here. I wanted to share a poem from a great book I came across in an old antique shop in Sausalito, Ca. Its got poetry from all the greatest poets, on nature, spirituality and the open road. Its called “The Gypsy Trail” and its a book I carry with me everywhere. This particular poem spoke to me today after the truth was set free on how my family sees me. It is in a section titled, “Sursum Corda” which in latin translates to “Lift Up Your Hearts”.
This is he, who, felled by foes,
Sprung harmless up, refreshed by blows:
He to captivity was sold,
But him no prison-bars would hold:
Though they sealed him in a rock,
Mountain chains he can unlock:
Thrown to lions for their meat,
The crouching lions kissed his feet;
Bound to the stake, no flames appalled,
But arched o’er him an honoring vault.
This is he men miscall Fate,
Threading dark ways, arriving late,
But ever coming in time to crown
The truth, and hurl wrongdoers down.
He is the oldest and best-known,
More near than aught thou call’st thy own
Yet, greeted in another’s eyes
Disconcerts with glad surprise.
This is Jove, who deaf to prayers,
Floods with blessings unawares.
Draw, if though canst, the mystic line
Severing rightly his from thine,
Which is human, which divine.
Ralph Waldo Emerson