Friday Poem: Numinous

A poem from the vault again this week, written at the same time of year and in keeping with chilly and brief afternoons, with the sound of rain on the roof –web edit 6

I don’t know what it is
But whatever it is
It sure is something;
It impales my soul
And cuts me into little bits
And tosses them aside
And then – Voila!
I am made new,
Just like a million fairy tales
And teaching stories, myths:
It isn’t new, whatever it is,
But old as stories are,
Made from a template
As ancient as mankind
And maybe older.
“Unless a grain of wheat
Falls into the earth and dies..”

Unless I fall into the depths
Go down into the darkness of the soul,
Give up the husks that mask
My inward truth
I cannot truly live.
web edit 5Numinous – surpassing understanding or comprehension, mysterious, difficult to put into words.

web world

Not the most logical topic for a poem, but what’s logical about poetry?

I took these photos earlier in the week, on a crisp winter morning following heavy dew, and after spiders had been industrious overnight.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s