Too Late To Pray

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And is it now
Too late to pray?
As children we rehearsed the verse
In ancient books and we hardly cared
Each word we said
It was enough to simply recite
And hope that soon the doors would open
Setting us free to play
Never mindful of what it might be
To one day need to pray
But finally kneeling at the grate
A hostage to some tragic fate
We came to pray too late

And if we spoke
Would Someone hear our voice?
We held this all in low esteem from ignorance
We played to win and never counted
On other circumstance
Believed in science and the laws of maths
And physics as our guiding lights
Never realising they might let us down
And fall away
Until nothing’s left at all but to pray
But finally here disconsolate
Before the fire of indifferent fate
We came to pray too late

But could our voice
Be somehow still heard?
As parents might at first ignore
The pleas of children who have played
And strayed to vices once implored
To leave alone
Yet mellow they yet waver at the free flowing tears
And promises to atone
Could it be that somewhere
Someone simply waits
For us to come
So finally kneeling at the grate
A love that cannot deviate says
You never pray too late.

(c ) Helen Valentina 2018

Posted in Air, Poetry | Tagged , , , , , | 5 Comments

Reclaim

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Reclaim the butterfly
Symbol of transformation
Not simple
Not easy
But fine
Not manipulated
Traumatised
And degraded
Reclaim the symbol
For what its purpose was
And always should be
Reclaim the butterfly
And then set it free

(c ) Helen Valentina 2018

Posted in Air, Poetry | Tagged , , , , , , | 3 Comments

Fortune

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Be you not
Fortune’s fool
The will of man
Is to self-determine
And not falter in superstition
Or by the fickle hand
Of idle gods
Even should it be
That pride lays traps
For unwary travellers
Yet it is so
That our lives are only
Little dreams
Unless we decide
To make of reality
What we design
Ask not what the future
Holds for you
Make the future
By your choices
And if your character
Yet pre-determines all
At least make that
Co-design
Also yours
Be not
An unwitting player
Following another’s script
Be you not
Fortune’s fool

(c ) Helen Valentina 2018

Posted in Air, Poetry | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments

Threshold

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Do I dare disturb this place?
Enter the door forbidden
By my ancestors
Yet open here before me
Entreating my safe entry
To the world beyond?

I have practiced carefully
Learned the texts and rituals
Prepared as a novice to adept
So surely this must be
A true revelation and not yet
A chimera sent to tempt
And draw me back, away?

My teachers may admonish
Me for pride and they may well be right
And yet this door before me
Speaks of secrets from some greater night
A place to cross over
Whole and inviolate
And in doing so in life
Cheating death
And its dark parade

What bargain must be made
To cross the threshold
Seek the counsel of the dweller there?
And would he speak of truth or lie
Bid me to eternal life
Or just to die?
I will not know
Until I try
Until I try…

(c ) Helen Valentina 2018

Posted in Air, Poetry | Tagged , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Free

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Let us go free
Into this good sky
Grateful and open
To the waking world
Like birds on a wing
Before we die
Let us go free
Into this good sky

Let us sing free
Our salvation song
Peace upon us
And clasping hands
A world united
Where all belong
Let us yet sing
Our salvation song

(c ) Helen Valentina 2018

Posted in Air, Poetry | Tagged , , , , | 4 Comments

Harvest Moon

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The harvest moon is shining
Over the aching lands
And of this golden omen
Few among us understands
Nor reads the signs across the sky
That whisper to us by and by
That on such moons the world will turn
And burn
And surely burn

The harvest moon is bleeding
Crying to our hearts
For those of us with ears to hear
And see how tumult starts
To know the ancient wisdom here
This sad and blighted time of year
That on such moons the world must learn
And burn
And surely burn

The harvest moon is crying
Tears that fall as blood
And with each drop we’re learning
All we have understood
We desecrate the temple halls
And through the air our judgement calls
So on such moons though we might yearn
We burn
We surely burn

(c ) Helen Valentina 2018

Posted in Fire, Poetry | Tagged , , , , | 2 Comments

Fresh ingredients

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Next year
We’ll use fresh ingredients
Juggling choices
To suit our palettes
Life’s finest chefs
Run on knowledge
And instinct combined
And with age and with time
So shall we
Next year
It’s a new recipe

Next year
We’ll combine the blends
Of things we’ve learnt
With newer tastes
We’ll not let a moment
Go to waste
A side dish or
A banquet
There’s nought to fear
For you or me
Next year
It’s a new recipe

(c ) Helen Valentina 2017

Posted in Earth, Poetry | Tagged , , , , , , | 3 Comments

Masquarade

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We were dancers all
In the masquerade
We were innocent
Of the part we played
We just revelled in
The bizarre parade
Merely dancers in
The black masquerade

Of the deaths that came
In our merry wake
We are innocent
Just a sad mistake
We’re just players here
For the highest stake
Nothing we could gain
Or we sought to take

They’ll portray us grim
In the aftermath
Not the gaiety
Of our glittering path
But we’ll pay the price
And in full not half
Dancing on the bones
Of the aftermath

We were dancers all
In the masquerade
Fully innocent
Of the pacts they made
But we held the form
When we should have strayed
So we’re lost within
This black masquerade

(c) Helen Valentina 2017

Posted in Fire, Poetry | Tagged , , , , , , | 6 Comments

Sleeping

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Sleeping beauty
Has been gone too long
No kiss can call her back
From dreaming’s deathly shade
She is perfect
Untouched by time
But unclaimable
Irredeemable
Her prince came
But far too late
Far too late

They will treasure her
Just like art
In a gallery
And all will come to see
Slumber’s princess
Lying now
In hallowed state
Her prince came
But far too late
Far too late

(C ) Helen Valentina 2017

Posted in Air, Poetry | Tagged , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Peacock

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This stage
Of the working
The peacock rises
All colours
Of the world
In its delicate feathers
Representing assimilation
Of all into one
For the coming
Of the white rose

This beautiful bird
Is mystery
Perfection in transformation
Proud but knowing
Its moment is brief
Part of the transition
The purification
For the coming
Of the white rose

(c) Helen Valentina 2017

Posted in Fire, Poetry | Tagged , , , , , | 3 Comments