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Poem

The weeping willow invitingly beckons
Low lying branches dipping woody elbows
Into a cool refreshing running stream
Like a scene out of an old techno movie
Projecting iridescent blues and greens
Highly saturated in their colour
The essence of tranquillity in a postcard look
Entices me closer
Wrapped in enigma in its existence so mesmerising
Like a page from an ancient book

And then I see her

A lone figure, reclining against the trunk of the willow
Surrounded by the smoke of the pipe she is smoking
With a faraway look in her faded blue eyes
A curtain on her eyes lift as awareness of me dawns
Evoking a sweet smile

Penetrating eyes appear to pierce right through to my soul
l feel a grasp as if my heart is being torn from my chest
Her eyes don’t stop they are now in my head
She is trying to release something - Something that resists
Ah - It’s my Spirit No? A slight shake of her head confirms this

My Soul

But my Soul wishes to stay
It belongs to this world - does it not?
A negative response vibrates through my being
My body has gone – but my Soul has remained
The part of humanity that “connects” with its Maker

My Spirit - and my Soul have somehow become disconnected
My Spirit with its Maker has already united
But my Soul has remained in its earthly abode
I comprehend - I have been in a void of sorts

One last reluctant gasp
Before I feel a release
My Soul and I
I am my Soul

A light - Glorious Illuminating brightness beckons
To connect with my Spirit and on to my Maker
And I joyously hasten to enter this light

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