Ice River
Let’s transport ourselves for a moment
to a different place, a different time
of where the autumn turns to winter
scapes, a gentle merging as the sun
is low on the horizon and the air
tastes sharp and clear.
We would stand
in warming furs, well covered
snug within
and we would see ahead
a river white and wide
straight river, out into
the far perspective where
the banks have merged
before the low horizon
meets the single point
in distance.
And we would step upon
our starting point,
a frozen lake
so deeply frozen,
thickest glass
of white and blue
so solid now
beneath our feet
and as our feet
would quite without
our mind’s command
would now begin
to move and slide
and skate in
rhythmic pulses
left to right
and as our bodies
bend into the movement
and our arms begin
to reach as well
thus we begin
our journey
forward
upward
on the river white
and raise our eyes
to where the point
of far perspective lies
and we begin to travel
Faster, faster still
and lighter,
each forward pulse
increases the momentum
each forward pulse
adds speed and now we
seem to fly towards
the point of far perspective
where the land must
meet the sky and all is
one, and silent white,
pulse travelling
pulse carrying
pulse flying
as the point expands
and seems a light
that seems to grow
in brightness and
you know
the doorway
lies before you
as you keep your eyes
towards the gate of far perspective
as you approach
and it grows more defined
and clearer
in your vision
soft white
and pulsing with a beat
that is the same
that pulses in your body
that brings you closer
closer with each beating
of your heart
It grows
the doorway grows
and now it fills your vision
here it is,
here you are
here you have arrived
at the gate of far perspective
and another pulse or two or three
bring you into the white
and white is right and all there is
and for a moment there is
nothing but the movement
on continuing and phasing
slowing from the impetus
relaxing down and slowing more
until you passed the gate
and you become aware and see:
The winter world before you
and the river still
and frozen still it is for
you to travel glass and icy smooth
and yet it is a river and it turns
and loops through winter land.
Slowly and without the slightest effort
you begin to glide the Winter River
and you see all along
the banks on either side
fantastic landscapes, crisp and white
the sky so radiant blue above
and all is winter still
and winter reverend.
Gently you glide by
and you perceive
enchanted castles,
frozen wells
and there’s a knowing
that there’s sleeping things,
snug and safe
in timeless slumber
deep beneath
the sweeps and crests
of ancient ice
that lie a frozen ocean
stretching far
and further still.
Gently you glide by
and you perceive
ice mountains,
sparkling glass
fantastic sculptures
that are beautiful
and they are here
as they could be
not anywhere
but here
Gently you glide on
and know that this
is now a world
that others never seek
to seek, nor seek to
travel.
And as you travel,
and observe,
and as you travel
and you marvel at the beauty
and the clarity
the timelessness
and perfect beauty of the white
your world grows larger
and a part that has been
long denied
has taken and is taking now
its rightful place
at last.
And you can know
as darkness falls
and Northern Lights play
in the sky
beneath your closing arc
that there is magic here
that there is much
you never thought to seek
that you might think
of coming here again
to seek and find
to learn and love
to stand before
the vastness and the beauty
and you might find
the kind of treasure here
that simply cant be known
in any other way
in any other place.
Glide by
Beneath the banding lights
of dancing jade and purple,
celestial blue and green
in hues you’ve never known
you glide on by to find
the gate of far perspective
for your journey here
was one of recognition
and of admiration
and of re-connection
to a something
that you might have thought
you had forgotten
and yet that lives
and sleeps and breathes
forever in a beauty
that cannot be found
in any other place.
Beneath the diamond stars
in stillness you return
and close the distance gently
as the gate grows from the point
of far perspective
widening on your approach
and with a tiny sense
of deep regret
at leaving once again so soon
and with a small decision to return
when time is here and time is right
you move towards the growing gate of white
that takes you back and through into
your time of mind,
and back and through
into your time of here and now,
a gentle dis-so-lucian
of the magic and
a gentle drifting back to self
in thought, in mind, in
physicality
as your awareness of the here-and-now
comes back in gentle waves,
in gentle waves of feelings and sensations
here and now
and bright aware
retaining and remembering.
Silvia Hartmann, 2000 |
