Creation
The Universe’s Manger
Click for meditationRegarding "The Universe’s Manger"
Seeing the
Beating heart of the
Baby robin was like looking at the
Beating heart of
All of earth’s life –
Every life, every heart, all
Combined into
Just one life, one
Single, big beating heart,
A composite heart, and
All shown to me
From my living room
Window, where a
Robin’s nest
Was but bare
Inches away in
A boxwood shrub,
And rather than having to
Travel to strange
And exotic
Lands in search of
Strange and exotic life,
All I had to
Do was to peek
Through the glass and
See the embodiment and
Meaning of all life,
Any kind of life,
Wherever it
Resided in this
Universe, and it
Was safeguarded in
Front of me by
A mother robin,
Which humanity would
Zoom light years to
See, if it was ever rumored
To chirp on another
Planet’s rock.
Leo Carroll
May 16, 2018
Is there a life
With more meaning than
Yours? Is there pink
Flesh I should more honor
In awe?
Is there a heart
Which sweeter, lighter beats?
Is there a clearer
Chirp of born again, new
Beginnings?
Is there a season
Which comes with gladder
Tidings? Is there a
Warmer nest to soothe
Robin’s crying?
Present Moment
Click for meditationRegarding "Present Moment"
Beauty is
Everywhere, but we
Have to see it,
Simple beauty,
Dandelion beauty,
Visible but hidden beauty,
In plain sight beauty,
Beauty our eyes
Are blinded to because
They’re clouded
With the scales of
Worry, beauty which
Is freely given,
And beauty which
Creation appointed to
Accompany
Our pilgrim’s
Path, when all
Else seemed to flee
Before the twin furies of
Regret about the
Past and fear
Of what the future
Could be.
Leo Carroll
May 8, 2018
And so spoke
Jason in his quest for the
Golden Fleece, and
So shouted Solomon from the
Ramparts of all his
Kingdom’s glory, and even
Inquired Ra, the Egyptian god of the sun,
“Where has been kept this
Hidden beauty,
This boundless yellow,
This brightest smile,
This dandelion,
This annual spring
Hope of ours?”
Footsteps
Click for meditationRegarding "Footsteps"
Anyone who
Has gone to the beach has
Probably had the experience
Of seeing footprints
In the sand, and wondering
Whom these might have
Belonged to? This
Frequently happens to
Me, especially when I
See footprints which retrace
The very same steps I
May have made. I wonder whom
They belonged to,
Perhaps a never-known
Soul mate, a person
Interested in the same
Things I am, a person on a
Similar pilgrim’s quest, a person
Seeking advice, guidance,
And the precious
Reassurance of Creation’s
Understanding and acceptance?
Footsteps, footsteps, that is
What they do to me –
Reminding me I am not
Alone on this plane
I walk, but instead that I
Retrace the common steps of
All humanity — in what
They seek, and of what they
Would talk…
Leo Carroll
July 23, 2018
Sitting
On the beach with
Someone else’s footsteps…wondering,
Musing what they were
Seeking…? Down to the
Water’s edge they solemnly went,
Down to find the
Answer to their
Prayer’s “amen.”
“Who were they,
Who, who?” I plead.
“Their flesh is now just indented
Sand where once they
Meekly walked,
Someone, someone who
Came this beach,
And someone about the
Tides with whom I could have
Talked…”
Being
Click for meditationRegarding "Being"
I am coming
To realize that in this
Wood I am seeing my reflection,
Everywhere, in the form
Of leaves and trees
And inaudible
Whisperings, animate
And inanimate, in God’s
Image, all things
And me, beauty
Surrounded by beauty,
Change surrounded by change,
Life and death
In tandem, and seen
E’en in the faces of
Brittle hues on mottled,
Genuflected, leafy
Knees…
Leo Carroll
August 7, 2019
So here I am,
Where immersed in this
Grove of almighty
Pines and beech I sit,
Peaceful, as long as lasts the
Glory of this instant…
In sync I am, and putting up
No resistance like
Autumn leaves – simply
A pilgrim on the path
To crinkled dust, and
Carried by the wind on
The carpet of
Creation’s love…
Snow-Cold Silence
Click for meditationRegarding "Snow-Cold Silence"
How
Crystal-perfect
Was that moment, as if time and the
Woods and all other
Things seemed to stand
Completely still,
Nothing moving, nothing
Stirring, utter quiet
Both within me
And outside of me,
And all while I inhaled
Snow-cold air,
An air telling me
Flakes were poised
To fall upon a
Landscape waiting,
Poised to be sipped like
Finest wine poured
From a golden
Goblet called late
Autumn in New
Hampshire.
Leo Carroll
July 30, 2019
Over me
Spreads an
Imperceptible
Yoke of
Silence,
Pushing shut
My eyes,
Despite all
My resistance
To being
Pious…
Nothing is
Moving now,
Not even an eyelash
Nor a leaf, not
Even sound, not
Even color,
Not even what
I believe…
Nothing is
Moving, as
Creation pauses
Before
Loosing the
First flake from
November’s
Heaven,
And between
Now and
Then, in
Awe asleep I
Am sent…