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Autumn.

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All summer we sail the soul in our inner sky born upon its

sea green heart. The changing of the season reminds us that

there must be an enfolding as well as an unfolding. A

moving inwards to enclose the experiences of our fervent

solstice. There must be time to read our runes, that the

greening may bring new fullness, from the ripened term,

and from the branch that stretched too far to hold this time.

Times mercy is that it conserves our significance as

autumnal repose, to mull the new wine internally for certain

awakening. This season of involution, husbands the

gathering to maturity. We let go of the growing, that it

might be the planting of potential. That the stock of our

awareness becomes the store of foresight.

Autumn changes the way the heart responds to itself. It no

longer opens only to receive, but to conceive itself in this

new wind of change. It embodies the gifts of the summer,

that the harvest be not depleted by forgetfulness. The womb

of insight envelopes the souls fleeting affairs, to germinate

yet further light.

For every advance of aspiration there is a season of

contemplation that must be the dormitory of new arising.

A time for the bearing of spirit children, nourished by the

fall of the green leaf to grow in comprehension.

Autumnal hearts are the seedbed of Gods becoming

consciousness. They are pregnant with seasoned purpose,

being the vestibule of new emerging.

Just as a bird that flies too high may wound itself on the

unsupporting air, so the soul must regain yet greater wings

to take the air once more. It challenges the dusk to be the

rebirth of flight. And so the dusk of the dying season is the

nursery of yet higher revelations of reality.

Autumn is the time of temperate confinement, a time of

quietude, that the soul may absorb the lessons of its journey

in God. This pilgrimage is to the heart of love, that is both

the sanctuary and inception of all heart traveling. Autumn

reforms us in the likeness of divine renewal. It is the

harbinger of resurrection, and the pause that inspires our

next step.

Here we abide in the unwinding of lights coil, and pray into

the world, the fullness of our understanding. The leavings of

yesterday become the flowers of tomorrow, and so we say-

This much I have known, and by this, I shall see my way.

Every now and then, all the green shoots and tender buds of a love

between people come shyly up through the surface of this world, and

we remember that all night they have been growing together in the

same garden.

Every now and then, someone drinks a cup of wine, and for no clear

reason, nourishes the world. The drop of every heart becomes a flood,

and we all begin to pour.

Every now and then, a person will surrender his interests, accounts,

and dogmas. He will begin to fall like autumn, just for the sake of

losing,

and so we are all changed

by his season.

Love is not tempted

by anything less than itself.

Sleepers awake in every heart.

Every now and then,

autumn drinks the summer down

and we all fall into spring.

Love

eric.

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All works and compositions found on the page submitted by

ErcAshfrd (AT) aol (DOT) com Are the Copyright of E. J. Ashford.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

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Eric, this is such totally beautiful and captivating poetry! Thank you for sharing.

You will find many wonderful poets and souls here who will appreciate

your inspired contributions.

I love your poem and the last verse is magnificent!

"Love is not tempted by anything less than itself. Sleepers awake in

every heart. Every now and then, autumn drinks the summer down and we

all fall into spring."

With Gratitude and Love

Harsha

ErcAshfrd (AT) aol (DOT) com

[ErcAshfrd (AT) aol (DOT) com]Tuesday, October 02, 2001 6:40 AMTo:

HarshasatsanghSubject: Autumn.Every

now and then, all the green shoots and tender buds of a love between

people come shyly up through the surface of this world, and we

remember that all night they have been growing together in the same

garden. Every now and then, someone drinks a cup of wine, and for no

clear reason, nourishes the world. The drop of every heart becomes a

flood, and we all begin to pour. Every now and then, a person will

surrender his interests, accounts, and dogmas. He will begin to fall

like autumn, just for the sake of losing, and so we are all changed

by his season. Love is not tempted by anything less than itself.

Sleepers awake in every heart. Every now and then, autumn drinks the

summer down and we all fall into spring. Love eric.

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