Tag Archives: Spiritual #

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The Fire: A Lyric

By Liam 

Beneath this fragile garment of skin

— our hidden meaning waits —

quiet,

inside the spirit.

We move through our days

gathering small pieces of light,

yet something deeper

keeps calling us

inward.

Now…

is the time

to tend to the secret fire.

Let my heart become a furnace

where sorrow transforms

and joy made pure.

Nothing given to this flame

is ever lost.

It transforms to insight,

for the journey to radiance,

no darkness can hold.

And when your days grow still,

like evening over spring water.

What remains is alchemical gold.

Clarified into its truest name:

love.

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Ask for, You shall Become !

by Liam

Ask the morning for bread,

life will place it warm in your hands,

A grateful gift of wheat and heat,

Is enough to feed you

through its conversation with the day.

Ask the night for your soul,

it will answer more quietly,

opening hidden places each unique,

each longingly learning its name.

This awakening becomes my form of prayer.

Ask, and life kneels forgivingly.

Ask life and the veil dissipates.

But let there be a deeper listening

than the hunger of the mouth

or the thirst of the heart,

a listening where the seeker

recognizes their own footsteps

echoing ahead of them into the future.

What you seek is not separate from yourself .

What you seek emerges  within you.

Understand this insight,

it’s not in words

but in a sudden sensitivity 

toward your own awareness,

as though the light you’ve followed

has been emergent within your being all along.

The bread becomes your blessing,

The soul becomes your shelter,

and the quest folds inward like a benediction,

Until we say,

I am the question.

I am also the answer.

I am the gate to be opened.

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Cuvée 

by Liam

This cuvée of the mind is a sparkling wine

We sip with our eyes

We taste with our souls, 

We feel with our perception

Till all is spinning into one, 

Inebriation! 

Give I these grapes to God in gratitude

New nourishment for my soul

We’ve discovered the hidden within the divine.

A mystery unto myself ,

I am that which I consume.

I am this which I drink.

Am I the becoming,

Oh, what do I think?

Come friends, let’s toast to this feast of universality,

To the recognition of immortality.

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The Art of Being Human

by Liam

Allow yourself to be a born human;

to arrive as a growing symphony of life,

a fierce flame carried forth from the dusk.

Allow yourself to become;

the living song you sing whose truths gather

in your bones,

until your very presence

is an ode to belonging.

Allow yourself to be alive:

to be drawn into the gravity of your own becoming,

to listen to the quiet music

hidden beneath your breath.

Allow yourself to trust;

that every step is held by an ancient knowledge  

that remembers you.

An individual discovering the meaning of the mystery.

A soul slowly learning

the art of its own delight.

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Solar Heart

by Liam

I’ve seen the quiet tremors of your gaze,

the way your pulse outshines the afternoon,

as if your breath were woven out of days,

that learned their language from a rising moon.

You speak, and dormant gardens break their sleep;

you move, and hidden continents shift their flow.

The world shuffles in, to listen to the deep

unfolding of a light it longs to know.

What secret spark first stirred this inner fire?

What cosmic gravity drew a flame to heart?

Your presence bends reality to desire,

A flame claims, love begins to start.

In your heart the sun is an exploding flame,

and the sky so blue 

will never be the same.

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The Art of Words

by Liam

Let me learn this art of words, I say,

To shape the sounds that linger in the air,

To sculpt the dawn from dreams in which we play,

And weave the truth these willing hands can bear.

For language is a lantern in the night,

A bright spark shining when the paths depart;

It warms the cold, restores my fading sight,

And carries mystery from the deepest part.

Which—tumble humble from my heart—they all,

Like scattered petals drifting in the breeze;

Yet still they rise to answer some faint call

And settle softly where another sees.

So grant my voice, that gentle souls may hear

The blossom of this art made bright and clear.

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The Embrace 

by Liam

In a quiet moment, my love met me there,

The wine’s red stain upon her lips,

Her ruby lockets curl with graceful care,

Now deep into my eyes her gaze now slips.

Her embrace transforms my very face to hers,

So we touch not with bodies, but with sighs,

In that kiss, the world around us blurs,

And all we share is in our eyes.

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The Song of Silence 

by Liam

In a hundred different ways, silence speaks in its own language

Only you can understand that tongue. 

What we hear is more beautiful than poetry

More eloquent than these words I write.

It is the hush where souls meet,

The quiet doorstep where we recognize one another,

As if the long road turned here

This meeting 

The end and beginning.

And so, I come home,

Not to a place, but to the shelter of your being,

Where silence blossoms into belonging,

And every new arrival is already complete.

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My Love Rose

by Liam

I have whispered to a rose with petals red,

Within lies an image of your face concealed;

Each blossom a memory of the grace by which you thread,

The sweet perfume of your story thus revealed.

The bud in a bouquet, rough with thorns in place,

Yet you remain unharmed by their cruel art;

Reach I to free you from their sharp embrace,

With a gentle grasp, yet will I win your heart?

Place I now the rose, soft upon this pillow fair,

Where magic dwells and gentle dreams entwine;

Your presence scents the hush of starlit air,

And makes my mortal heart beat more like thine.

Oh red rose, whose beauty sings your name,

In you, my love finds pleasure and its flame.

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The Flux

by Liam

Do not be deceived by the word, ending

for what you call an end,

is but the shy opening of another door.

All things move in their own rhythm,

each life is a current of becoming, of growth,

each moment a threshold

where the unseen strives to find form.

Your past is never lost

it lingers, ringing as a faithful echo,

a mirror of the self you too once carried.

But memory is not a cage,

it is a root, quietly fertilizing 

the soil of your tomorrow.

Let your  patience soften joyfully into the flow of change,

Thereby shaping  with tenderness

the mighty clay of your becoming.

And when all the familiar falls away,

cling not to its absence which is surpassed,

but trust the shining horizon

already rising within you.

For nothing truly concludes.

Its from the silence,

new language is being born. 

Each new letter a eulogy 

to yourself.

The end, is but a beginning,

And us, forever in flux,

are eternal pilgrims of 

arrival.