
Here there are remnants
of sea cliffs.
Cliffs that have not towered
since ancient times.

Here there are remnants
of sea cliffs.
Cliffs that have not towered
since ancient times.

I was out and about photographing for a few hours this morning. On such walkabouts I like to walk at a slow but steady pace, and in a contemplative frame of mind.
Usually I’ll also chant mantras as a way of focusing my mind, of keeping random thoughts from distracting my attention. And so it was today.
Deep into today’s walk, I was feeling ‘in the zone’, as I like to call it. Making photos and chanting mantra. All of a sudden I heard myself singing a bhajan (sacred song or hymn) in place of the mantra I’d been reciting.
This particular bhajan was By Your Grace, by Krishna Das, It’s a beautiful devotional song that you can listen to here. I’ve been listening to it and singing it for years, and I love it. I find it puts me in a nice prayerful state of mind, Anyway, here are the lyrics:
Closer than breath, you are the air
Sweeter than life itself, you are here
I am a wanderer, you are my peace
I am a prisoner, you are release
Jai Gurudev…
I am a pilgrim, your road so long
I am the singer, you are the song
Held in the open sky, so far above
I am the lover, you are the love
Jai Gurudev…
I follow your footsteps through the flame
All that I ever need is in your name
Carry your heart in mine, vast as space
All that I am today is by your grace.
By your Grace…
I live by your grace.

Now, the song was written by Krishna Das as a way of thanking and praising his Guru. But, the words and the power of the song can be dedicated to any of our own individual concepts of the Truth. Whether we call it the Absolute Reality, the Supreme Being, the Life Force, the inner Divinity, Nature, Consciousness, God, Guru, the Universe. After all, these are all simply names and forms.
I guess what I’m saying here is that the song is a fine prayerful and meditative way to express our gratitude to, our love for, and devotion to whatever it is in our heart of hearts we know as our support, our teacher, our creator, our Guru. Our very own Truth
Peace blessings from me to you


The hand of the monk
agéd, insistent, but gentle too,
takes and holds mine.
The monk sits, the Dharma before him,
sacred texts resting in their saffron shroud.
My presence completes
this circle.
Mountain monastery
calling him; it’s not home.
Other mountains
he’s climbed. Escape.
High places divide
this world from that,
that time from this.
His loving touch, his smile,
linger in rarefied air.
Air drenched with the warmth
of the Dharma,
in this late monsoon
restaurant of the Snow Lion,
south of his land.


HOMAGE TO HOLINESS
Threads harvested from threadbare clothing.
Pea-sized bits of bread, sliced from meagre rations,
Secretly hoarded for sacred purpose.
Mala makers work at night
in the dark of the stinking and freezing stone cell.
Chewed bits of bread become dough again,
and, by feel, frozen fingers knead the dough
Until tiny beads of bread emerge.
A tiny twig, again by feel, pierces each bead through.
Then in solemn prayerful silence and focus,
the nun passes her harvested thread through the first bead.
She ties a knot, no easy task with freezing fingers in the frozen dark.
And so it goes; all sacred duties take their own time.
One by one; one bead of bread threaded; one knot knotted.
The nun nears collapse. But now, at last, her task is done.
As the last knot is knotted, the last bead in its place,
The nun sighs and mutters, whispers, a prayer of thanks.
One hundred and eight beads plus one.
She has made her Mala.
Om Mani Padme Hum

AS GAIA TURNS
Surya illumines
with his fiercely gentle life-giving light.
Gothic panes receive and reflect
golden impressions
as Gaia turns.

Just call me angel of the morning, angel.
Just touch my cheek before you leave me.

The Wall Dragon (Wollongong Australia March 2023