Entries tagged with black

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black,
prayers

A prayer of thanks to Black

You are the sudden shadow, the quiet voice
within, the center of the self, the dream
that still sings out loud at the end of the day;
you are the silent moment, the secret
never told, the root that takes hold in soil or stone,
the wish made prayerfully on a distant star;
you are the insight of the soul, the endless search
for capricious truth, the never-ending journey,
the treasure of the heart. Lady Black, guardian
of all we are and can become, I thank you.

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black

Black is a tool, an instrument

The problem with digging around for inner truth and personal reality isn't just that it's always changing, it's that there's no bottom. It's like digging any old hole in the dirt, there's no end. Really you can keep digging and digging and you're never quite sure that what you're finding is what's there. You think you've found a satisfactory and right-seeming answer to what you're looking for, but if you scrape off just another layer of soil, maybe there's something else buried there.

How damn complicated does a person have to be anyway? How precise does the digging have to be? Use a big shovel and you'll get further quicker, but a little trowel (and maybe an archaeologist's brush) will probably be more accurate and thorough.

Entry tags:

black,
prayers

A Prayer to Black

I call to Black, friend of the self, friend of truth,
whose hand in our lives is ever-present, veiled or
made clear; whose guidance is at once firm and gentle,
whose wisdom is always within reach. You know
the longest journey leads through life, by paths uncertain
toward fates unguessed, each tale untold until its end.
The treasure of remembrance is yours, the memories
of things long gone, the resonance of lives well lived.
The unseen, the unknown, the undiscovered,
all are yours, all are prized no less for their darkness.
Above all truth is yours, the truth that must be found
within, bitter or sweet, in the heart and spirit.