Water from the Fountain E-Book

Maximilian Beindorff

• Herausgeber: Books on Demand
• Kategorie: Poesie und Drama
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 50

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2015

Beschreibung

Water from the Fountain is intended to let the reader find the space within themselves where we can find a bit of peace in these hectic times. Prose and poetry along with vivid paintings give the reader a chance to reflect and find new energy within its pages.

Leseprobe

Book & cover design and layout by Cynthia Andros

www.CynthiaAndros.com

Artwork by Natalia Mezentseva

www.mezentseva.ru

The book is dedicated to…

My family, the source of all that

I was, am, and will ever be;

My friends, the family that

has chosen me;

My teachers, for the lessons and

patience imparted upon me

And to S.M., for when we are lost, you

show us the way towards our light.

Table of Contents

Foreword

I and I

Conquering Genesis

Prose One

Ancestral Tapestry

Return to the Garden

Aster

Simurgh

Prose Two

Remember

Waking from Slumber

Reflecting Paths

Prose Three

Cosmic Gong

Her Dance

Smiling Host

Prose Four

Two Paths

Staircase

God’s Bedroom

Prose Five

Bodhisattva’s Promise

Blooming Past

The End of a Season

Blazing Light

Prose Six

Dance of Worship

War in the Temple

Prose Seven

Door to the Ocean

Diamond Cutter

Orchestra of Drums

Prose Eight

Lonely Rock

Blooming Lotus

Reckoning

Prose Nine

Fate

Numbers

Infinites Necklace

Prose Ten

Learning to Taste

Hereditary Weakness

Wheel

Prose Eleven

Mowaljarlai

Fully Empty

Air and Water

Alphabetical Index

Foreword

At the present moment, we, humanity, stand like young birds on the branch of a tree, ready to take flight. This moment fills us with mixed emotions:

We are overjoyed with the new world we imagine for ourselves just beyond the tree. We can see the outlines of our future upon the horizon of time, dressed in purple robes, welcoming us to a completely new set of experiences and adventures.

Yet, we are struck by fear when we look down and see the ground beneath the branch. If we fail to take flight, if this future we only hear whispering to us is a mirage, we fall to our deaths.

And we are then pulled back by the warm, nostalgic feelings towards our home in the tree. Here, we were born and raised. Familiar with each and every crevice, we watch the budding of the flowers this new spring is bringing for us. To stay here would be more comfortable.

A new world with evergreen cypresses, new possibilities, new brothers and sisters awaits us. We can always return to this tree to recharge ourselves in its familiar warmth. If we refuse to fly, we take from ourselves the greatest gift that has ever been bestowed upon us: our expressing individuality.

“Once I was past and future, now I am only the present, and that is hard to bear, with no past, no future.”

~ S.L.M. David Mowaljarlai, O.A

I and I

Read this

As if

I am reading it.

Through these words

We have found

One another.

You read that

Which I now write,

But to you,

I was writing.

And to me,

You will read.

The central point

Are these words

Brought with each stroke

Towards completion.

I is I

And

You are me.

This makes me

You,

Him into her,

Her into them,

And eternity

One.

Conquering Genesis

We create our own devils.

Slowly,

We build them,

Nurturing them

With our energy,

Our light,

Unconcious of

Their genesis.

In their embryo,

They are pluripotent.

Just like us.

We can make them

Into anything we want.

Yet we choose devils.

At some point,

They must be conquered.

Why not conquer

Their genesis?

Ancestral Tapestry

Who are we

To call our ancestors

Simple and barbarians?

They speak to us,

Through the millenia,

Through time and space,

In beautiful pictures

Of talking animals,

Of kind and mischievous gods,

Of miracles,

Or our mother earth.

Are those who wove

This tapestry

Of myth and legend,

Of rich imagination,

The true barbarians

Or the ones

Who can no longer weave?

Each breath of our lives is a constant exchange of energy. We inhale, building up a stress and tension necessary for our survival, pausing for a miniscule moment at the apex of tension. Then, like an explosion of freedom, we exhale and return to the world that we have transformed inside ourselves. As the world gives its riches to us, so do we give back to it, and thereby support each other.

Without food, we can live for weeks.

Without water, we can live for days.

Without sight, we are blind.

Without speech, we are mute.

Yet, without breath, this rhythmic constant, which guarantees our survival, we are lost within minutes. Something so simple, so automatic to our life, goes mostly unnoticed. If this can bypass the perception by our consciousness, what else are we missing?

Return to the Garden

I have missed you.

Eternities have passed,

Infinities seem like

Mere grains in the wind.

So long

Have I longed

For your being.

I call to you

Yet I never

Hear a reply.

Where have you gone?

Why has it been so long?

Winter has covered

Our garden.

As I walk through it

The cold brings

A tear to my I.

Soft spring’s breath

Glances across my face,

Carrying my tear

To nurture what lies

Beneath, sleeping.

Now I know

Where you have been.

Now I know

You are returning.

Now I know

Darkness

Will cede to

Light.

Aster

Through your beauty

We have found inspiration,

Manifested life,

Created art and dance,

All based upon your rythms.

Soft movements,

Gentle curves,

Let us be in awe

Of your simple magnificence.

Without you

There would be

No us.

Without us,

There would be

More you.

Come,

No longer must you cover

Your tearful eyes.

Look, he is returning.

An old friend,

Who left long ago,

With a promise,

To fullfil it now.

Simurgh

Simurgh, king of birds,

Where is your nest?

I need your guidance

My old friend.

So long

Have the winds

Created by your feathers

Not cooled my head.