LIGHTS UPON THE MOUNTAINS OF A THOUSAND YEARS

To Listen to a recording of this Poem

Upon the holy mountain
Lilly waited for the voice
of fire, the voice of swords,
the voice of stars upon her hands.
Her poverty had long been her wealth
until the crackling sky
in sudden terror struck the idols down:
the mice, the golden lice,
the 100 foot alloyed man.

One shall construct fine things,
like mirrors of his own soul,
and wear them out with love
in the hands of his grandchildren
and his grandchildren’s children
in that day when all the world comes to know
that no one ever really knows
the craftsman’s name,
nor the name
of she who had long waited
and now carries white stones
into his bed.

Ah, the holy day comes
when Lilly shall hold
melodious love
like light in her hands
and feed some little red sugar berries
unto that roly-poly bear
who plays in her garden:
her brown, brother bear
who has come out of the singing woods
morning by morning
to gaze into her eyes
and be held in her warm human arms.
And they shall sit, morning by morning,
to rock each other,
singing lullabies and bear songs,
until lions come from the holy hills,
leaping down to break boards out
of old barn walls
and let some beautiful sky shimmer though,
casting daylight all over the faces
of little penned lambs.

LIGHTS UPON THE MOUNTAINS OF A THOUSAND YEARS

Blake Steele

Molkom, Sweden

  • Artist
    Notes

Artist's Description

*A poem from 1991 that weaves imagery from biblical prophet’s dreams of a new world of harmony and peace, where humans, animals, birds, fish, all resonate to the transformative power of Love and the higher worlds that are within this world. Worlds not made of atoms, but consciousness, as all things are made of consciousness. Some quantum physicists say matter is like light frozen into form and the void a living potential of infinite power waiting to emerge into colorful happenings. But it is up to us to believe in the silent music, the laughter waiting to murmur out of wood and stones for our consciousness is the gate keeper of this world.

I know, it sounds like childish fancy. Tell that to Isaiah, or Ezekiel. Tell it to Moses, or the wild Yogic Masters of India. Tell it to Jesus when he lovingly smiled and ascended in clouds, melting as Living Light back into the worlds of laughter. We are on the cusp of a huge awakening, the Living Light that will shine all over the faces of little penned lambs.*

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