C.W. Blackburn
pure
just to live is holy. to rake leaves in the winter. to fold laundry. to believe in the miraculous.
we are made of matter, so we stay humble.
we share our essence with the stars, so we grow in nobility.
In the same way the moon fades with the morning light though remains ever-present, the visible continuously joins with the invisible in this moment that comes and goes, emerges then dissolves – arising and disappearing without trace. perceiving the uncertainty, we seek for answers, but live with the questions, curious how much of our being is concealed in those vast, endless seas beyond the circles of our experience.
turning inwards, we reach out to find that immensity. kneeling in the mud, sweat mixing with rain, we pick the fleeting flowers of awakening, plucking their clean, bright stems from the buddha-field’s immortal earth – mindfully attentive to their fragile beauty, smiling silently at their fragrance and colour.
the very act of witnessing becomes a window into eternity. the luminous fish, navigating the waters far below the surface. the dark eyes of the lonely stallion, deepening into kindness. the currents of air that hold the weightless crow.
all creation is embraced in this loving awareness. what was hidden ripens into view.
somewhere between the seen and the unseen, we become the poem . . .
as the Milky Way spirals overhead— a dewdrop settles on a chrysanthemum’s petal . . .
About the Author
C.W. Blackburn is a mystic poet who lives in Bournemouth, a seaside town on the south coast of England. He has authored five collections of poetry, and his work has also been published in Kindred Spirit, Presence, Ribbons, and Dreich.