When at my door your final bell will ring
I shall remember those who opened, let
you in and begged for one last song to sing,
who thought a mercy prayer would convince
to have a pardon granted by this prince
When at my door your final bell will ring
I shall remember those who weren’t in
but uninvited, still got lifted by your wing,
who while preparing for a glorious flight
were grounded brutally, take off denied
When at my door your final bell will ring
I shall remember those who welcomed
you as royalists their banished king
who after years of fruitless fight
eventually got their heart’s delight
When at my door your final bell will ring
I shall remember all, praise the Almighty,
challenge your sword with mine then swing
so that my blade will testify that it is I
who at the doors riposted to your passing by
painting: Ferdinand Vercnocke, ‘Mars’, Oil on canvas, 100x80cm
top img = wooden handmade sword, present to my 2nd son by his friend
A lighthouse be,
mirror the beauty
of that inward eye,
echo the silence and
become the sea, turn,
return, a beacon be,
reflect the answer,
come with me,
to any ship then
you will be as is
to time eternity
(France, Biarritz, Sunset @ Rocher De La Vierge & Vieux-Boucau-les-Bains, Atlantic Ocean beach, February 25th, 2009, a magic moment in front of my lens)
Sometimes we hesitate between tomorrow and today, the burden of yesterday upon our shoulders as an ocean wave, too heavy for a ride. Sometimes we hesitate upon that selfsame wave, we hesitate, we linger, we listen to the wind perhaps there is a message there before we drown in thoughts about these waves that on and on roar through our heads as a forgotten love, long, long forgotten but present, each second coming, coming and again: you see Here face in front of you, with every hand She lays upon the beach a deadly kiss, but still this wind is irresistible, is loud and clear and yet again we hesitate, shall we then sing with Her this ancient melody, written in a thousand pebbles on the shore? Sometimes we hesitate between tomorrow and today, the burden of a yesterday upon our shoulders as an ocean wave, but once the die is cast we fly, O we sing, we dance and glide, no cold can hold us back, this beach is ours and we meet our Love, we roll and turn, become the Wave, Her arms around us, gently rocking, Her voice a lullaby we recognize from first we entered, O yes, and here She is, for us only for us, and up and down we go, we roll and rock, we shout exhilarated, we enter in Her curve, She is inviting us again, again, Her wave a womb to live our lives so fast and faster still until the winter carries us above the water, we have wings and eagle like we leave the cave, invited by the Sun as if we were a newborn Star, O yes, we shine, we shine with our new Light years and years ahead, beyond all hesitation found our Love, finally Home, finally homeward bound and yes, this beach is ours this ocean now our Home, and that is all we have and all we need, there is no hesitation in this moment because this is indeed All we have, O, All we will have, All we will have eternally.
(written February 25th, 2009, on the beach during a rain shower on the Vieux-Boucau-les-Bains beach near Biarritz, sitting on a dune, watching some surfers on the waves. I had told them I would write a poem for them while watching. After their surfing, the poem was finished and I read it to them. A magic moment!)
I am a distant traveller, the realms I
visit are as far away as are my eyes
to starlight being born, they glitter
and they keep inviting, light years
pass, a silent voice keeps ringing,
the time clock of my mind, still I
am sure eventually our hearts will
sing in tune, O yes, I am a distant
traveller, and when by chance your
eyes meet mine when passing by
then linger for a while, as if you’re
waiting for a miracle, O yes, be sure,
a faint reflection then will make you
smile, close to the border you will
recognize, close to the border you
will enter, close to the border you
will breathe in realms of gold, in Heart
and Soul and be a distant traveller,
as starlight being born.
As waves are to the sea so time is to
the mind: moments come and go, then
come again, and if we try to hold them,
and cherish what they offer they just
go again, but always something then
is left behind, not for the eye to see
but for the Heart to feel, and finally,
when we stop wondering where all
this is coming from, we are ready to
receive, our eyes then open, as time
is to the mind and waves are to the sea,
so Love is to our Soul, eventually.
(filmed at Sint-André beach, Oostduinkerke, Belgium)
Boutman 