THE SIXTH ERA

 

Poetry starting February 12, 2005

SANNA TORPET, SWEDEN

Regarding the eras of my life:

1. Childhood

2. Darkness

3. Religion

4. Art

5. Nakedness

6. Creative Faith and Despair

7. Freedom and Compassion

 

A…

All existence is streaming out of God

 

B…

BEAUTIFUL WITH LOVE

BEING TRUE

BREATHING GOD’S NAME

 

D…

DEEP PEACE

DRUNK WITH LIGHT

 

F…

FROM A NOTE TO SANDRA IN INDIA

 

G…

GOD LOVES TO LOVE YOU

Grandpa Oats

 

I…

I felt the divine child in me this morning

IN THE SEA OF LOVE

INTO THE MIRROR

It is utterly good

I WANT TO STOP THIS MADNESS

 

L…

LIGHT ARISES AS A SWEET PLEASURE

LITTLE TEACHER

LOVE POURS

 

M…

May 14, 2005 Sanna Torpet

 

N…

NOW IS THE TIME FOR SCRIBING YOUR STORY

 

S…

SAVE ME FROM ILLUSIONS

Sifnos

SLIM INNOCENCE

 

T…

The almond branch trembles and blooms

THE NIPPLE

THE OPENING

THE PURE DROP

THERE IS A TREMBLING OF THE HEART

THE SIXTH ERA

THE SPIRIT AND THE WORD

 

W…

WHAT MYSTERY?

WITH LOVES’ INTENT

 

Y…

YOU BECOMING

 

32 POEMS

last poem:

THERE IS A TREMBLING OF THE HEART

 

 

The poetry…

 

 

THE SIXTH ERA

 

A new chapter begins

marked by God’s finger

across the innocent page,

written with life’s language

from the day and the dark

of religion and the holy.

As ripples on a still pool

expand in silver light

so Love expands to embrace all:

for Love is the water     

and the stone in the water

and the expanding circle of waves.

 

 

 

LITTLE TEACHER

 

Little teacher of innocent joy,

naturally shining

with eyes luminous as two pearls

and a smile as easy as wind,

your thoughts are as simple as milk,

as clear as limpid water in a glass.

You drink from the secret pink fountain:

your every action reveals

effortless love.”

 

 

 

IN THE SEA OF LOVE

 

We exist in the sea of Love.

Thoughts arise and fall as waves

in an ocean of innocence.

I see the white sun

in the innocent blue milk of the sky.

My body is like roses and milk.

What is there to desire but this

white sea beyond desire?

 

 

 

Grandpa Oats

 

Here I am in a garden.

I have no idea what makes it grow

or my fingers move.

I only know that sunshine in my brain and bones

is like God loving me.

The wind glides as a naked hand over my body

while the sea goes on calling her sweet songs

to wandering birds:

She’s like a wild fisherwoman with foam-white hair

saying, come catch my wares,

or a quizzical old dancer in a blue dress

wooing me to be a silent witness with her of the stars.

Meanwhile, I work like a child works,

aware of little but the play

of my hands with earth.

Seeds fall from my fingers

to do their little duties.

I spill my tin watering cup

and magic happens.

Sometimes a thought comes

that holds the secret of what it is made.

Then my blood roars loud in my veins.

This also passes, settling like a wave

back into this sea of peace

somehow, I am.

 

 

 

THE PURE DROP

 

The pure drop:

that famous mystery,

so simple it confounds the seeking mind.

Jesus called it many names:

the hidden treasure, the lost coin,

the precious pearl.

That secret place where there is no need,

no suffering, no trouble:

the dove spot of white peace;

the perfect, playful happiness of a little Buddha.

We all carry it within

as it carries us in Holy Presence:

embracing our suffering,

our human dreams of separation,

our slow, painful parting from those we love,

while holding, as a white stone,

the unwavering vision of our return home.

How can there be anxious care

in perfect trust:

this quality beyond words,

this Yes beyond yes?

What is there to ask for

except to drink the cup

as freely as it is poured,

and to taste on the tip of our tongues

the sweet release,

the trembling end of trembling,

the pure, round, liquid

drop of Light

that Light drinks?

 

 

 

FROM A NOTE TO SANDRA IN INDIA

 

I think of Sandra in her silence,

in the profound space that birds keep,

in the place where flowers quiver

in ecstasy at the slightest stir of a breeze.

Light rests easy in open spaces

that only silence can reach.

 

 

WHAT MYSTERY?

 

The child is stalked amidst bamboo shadows—

Zen in Zebra-light.

What hand parts towering tendrils, 

bars and blades,

to reveal the quiet tiger' s

radiant eyes?

 

 

 

THE NIPPLE

 

There is a pure nipple

in the center of your heart

flowing with the milk of Life.

Open up your heart

and take that tender nipple into your lips,

into your open mouth of innocent awareness.

Suck and drink; it is pure being.

From the clouds of its cream

comes stars and distant galaxies—

mountains, seas, birds and trees.

From that nipple flows

white rivers of Love

into the mystery of your luminous pool

gazed at by innocent eyes.

 

 

 

BEING TRUE

 

I want to live in such a way

that my words and actions

resonate in the wombs

of women

who hold deep earth

in the dark of their eyes:

women with hearts

that shimmer open with grace

ringing from the secret face

of that wild patience

that penetrates earth

with harmonies of Light

and sounds of heaven.

 

 

 

INTO THE MIRROR

 

Into the mirror the bright river streams—

everything is utterly just as it seems.

Cast off your blankets,

and lay in the sun,

stop all this madness—

where will you run?

The river is flowing with bird song and wind

as  the warm earth tips

into winter’s bright end.

Just a puff of a breeze and the shadows depart,

from the brightness and beauty

of an innocent heart.

 

 

 

DRUNK WITH LIGHT

 

Those drunk with light are called mad by the blind.

Those giddy with Love are called crazy by cynics.

Some child thinks the world was made by Love.

Everyone in the circus laughs, except the clown.

Whoever makes the glory his own becomes the glory.

Whoever sings the glory in their bodily cells opens hearts.

Everyone in heaven is crazy with laughter.

 

 

 

WITH LOVES’ INTENT

 

When imagination flows

with Love’s intent

something eternal shines

within the lantern of your ribs:

Oil flows from your fingers;

ritual becomes reality.

You put your hands gently

on someone’s head,

their heart opens

and God laughs.

 

 

 

BREATHING GOD’S NAME

 

The deep, deep,

tender pink sweetness of God,

in the center of your chest,

in the essence of your heart.

In and out, in and out, the breath flows

breathing the name of God:

Al… in,

la…out,

ha…in,

Al…out,

la…in,

ha…out…

on and on,

sighing the name,

relaxing into the name,

sinking deeper into the sweetness,

opening your most vulnerable heart,

drinking in the Love.

 

 

I WANT TO STOP THIS MADNESS

 

I want to stop this madness

of striving to understand

what can only be known

by being unknown

and celebrated

 

 

 

NOW IS THE TIME FOR SCRIBING YOUR STORY

 

You listen to stories of how it happened to others.

What is the story of how God opened you?

Now is the time for writing your story:

with the first chapter body, and the second the Spirit,

and the third one your soul with the old and the new.

Then comes the song of Love in the leaves,

and water-songs, healing, and Life coming true.

Then comes the finish, with the pilgrim departing

— but who really knows when your story is through?

 

 

SLIM INNOCENCE

 

The child sits before

the frowning powers

with a crown on her head,

in white, in simplicity of being,

and observes it all

with unwavering peace.

None can defile her,

her wisdom is innocent,

her innocence is wise.

 

 

It is utterly good

 

It is utterly good:

fresh spring waters gurgling through;

clear wave after clear wave over white sands;

the song of a lark cascading down through a spring sky;

the blue sky showering through your opened eyes.

 

 

 

I felt the divine child in me this morning

 

I felt the divine child in me this morning,

throwing away the illusion of ego.

There are no words to describe

such bubbling, pure, fresh, free being.

 

 

 

May 14, 2005 Sanna Torpet

 

Watch the flowers in sunlight to learn surrender.

Listen to the songs of birds to learn joy.

Watch them fly amongst the branches of a tree

to learn freedom.

 

 

 

Oct 1st 2005

Sifnos

 

This was the Greece that I once knew

a long, long time ago,

when people lived about the pace

that a glacier melts in snow.

Gone are the old ones who sat in the sun,

with kind and wrinkled faces,

their homes are renovated now

for sleepers from other places.

And the little churches that housed the monks

who held the souls of the people,

are empty now, but the bells still chime,

knocked by machines in the steeples.

Where are the shepherds, where the goats,

where the donkeys in the lanes?

The merchants have more money now

to buy pills to dull the pain

of living without a soul

in a land that once was holy.

 

 

 

DEEP PEACE

 

Deep peace,

stillness…

eating the name of God.

Al…

La…

Ha…

Deeper into this nothingness

brimming with Light.

 

 

 

THE OPENING

 

The Great Love, flowing smoothly,

opens the heart.

Words from sweet lips

convey the nature of Heaven.

Gently the Spirit soaks through.

The veils soften and grow thin.

The opening comes

from the Holy side.

 

 

 

The almond branch trembles and blooms

     

The temple of God is the body,

perfectly designed to express the Holy.

Every sense, purified to its essence

conveys its inmost nature:

clean Spirit being in clean flesh;

clean energy moving gently.

Every instinct is for opening

and the delight that brings happiness

and peace.

The ecstasy arises in both holy places

at once. God is in His temple.

Everything cries its sweet cries.

Clothes fall from the soul.

It awakens in nakedness.

The almond branch trembles

and blooms.

 

 

 

LIGHT ARISES AS A SWEET PLEASURE

 

Be open, be awake,

and naked and clean and free,

for the Spirit of the Pure One

is moving and the Light arises

as a sweet pleasure

through the central hole:

the tender, Holy nothing in the midst

of the heart.

 

 

 

THE SPIRIT AND THE WORD

 

The fountain of innocence,

the fresh wind that does not move,

the tender breath,

the nakedness of God.

 

Words that fall from silent combustions

ring within the secret soul of Life:

that matrix where dreams unite with fearless action

in spite of fear.

 

 

 

SAVE ME FROM ILLUSIONS

 

When God and the soul work together

something good is about to happen:

the soul spins around so that front is back

right here amongst the crickets

and the sidewalk cracks.

 

 

 

All existence is streaming out of God

 

The branch quivers, the snowflake falls,

all existence is streaming out of God.

The deer gives birth and licks the fawn,

all existence is streaming out of God.

In China two lips quiver on a teacup,

all existence is streaming out of God.

In India a child with a dirty face stares,

all existence is streaming out of God.

Through the nose the spirit pours,

all existence is streaming out of God.

Through the heart the dream leaps out,

all existence is streaming out of God.

Who can say old patterns can’t break?

All existence is streaming out of God.

Who knows what miracles a day can bring?

All existence is streaming out of God.

 

 

WIND IN A BOX

     

The wind wants to know what it is to live in a box.

Don’t bother it. It is silent for its own reasons.

As trees embrace sunshine and storm

embrace all of your life.

This great Yes makes the wind of you happy.

But it will not allow you to hear its laugh.

It will not allow you

to spoil death’s surprise.

 

 

LOVE POURS

 

Love pours through this miraculous instant.

Wake up and drink a singing, clear beauty.

 

 

YOU BECOMING

 

Why not want what God wants:

to Love you into laughing,

to unmask your secret anger

and drink your pain of grief;

to pour His light like liquor

through your brain and body

until your whole body sings:

this is God our Lover,

and you are you becoming

both beloved and the loving.

 

 

 

GOD LOVES TO LOVE YOU

 

God loves to Love you

as a composer loves to compose,

as an artist loves to paint,

as a doctor loves to heal.

God loves to take your darkest shame,

your fears and regrets into his strong hands,

and squeeze out the darkness,

wring you completely dry,

and put your soul in the tub of His Love,

to swim alive in the colors

and laugh in the beauty.

 

 

BEAUTIFUL WITH LOVE

 

You were made

to become beautiful with Love

in countless hearts.

Give your gifts.

Let God write your story

with a Lover’s hand

in two worlds

 

 

 

 

THERE IS A TREMBLING OF THE HEART

 

There is a trembling of the heart

that comes in the presence of birth,

or death, or a pure soul,

for then is sensed the ceaseless

origin of all things

and a kind of music of mystery

that has no words,

only an imperceptible

energetic movement.

There is an unbloomed blossom

always opening toward us;

there is milk for our lips

constantly dribbling from a soft spiritual breast —

until we take off our bodies

to sink beyond silence

into the teeming throngs

of a wing-packed sky.

 

 

 

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