Withering generations of man,
Flutter to and fro, mocking the insect.

Silence damning sanity awakens the tempest,
The memories flash.

What creature am I to hold such a dream?
What path by gone leads me to this?

Is there a legacy forgotten in me?
Arise oh eternal divinity.
Let loose the ancient remembrance.
Awaken the sleeping child.
Restore the holy hill.
Return the grip of time to its folly.

Commit my command unto me.

Let love of the heart bring enduring captivity to its intent.

Why should a man rest upon the lashes of his bondage?
Unto everlasting darkness there lay the lazy mind.

Why should he who recalls not mourn for his kingdom?
Was the grass not soft enough?
Were the gardens not flourishing?
Was there not honey pouring from the rocks?
Were the trees in the midst not breathtaking?
Was the valley not ripe with fruit?
Were the hills not awe striking?
Was the sun not nourishing?
Were the waters not quenching or life-giving?
Was there not love above all other principles?
Were not all who entered welcome?

Oh yes how little we can embrace our kingdom in this place of man.
Forever we reach,
Endlessly we seek,
Passionately we succumb to our desires,
Eternal is this want to feel our beloved home.

Unlike so many who hide their true wish,
I proclaim my determination upon the wind.

For now your morals have become upside down,
Arrogance is in he who looks away, yet you curse the visionary.
Stumbling is in he who walks with the crowd, yet pathfinders burn.
Humility is in the dreamer, not the hider,
And character is found in the ones who speak alone.

We call the courageous man to be proud,
And the fearless to be shunned,
The outspoken to be wicked,
And the awakened soul we say is a perversion of light.

Yet he who lives by fear, tradition, and superstition damns himself to all these terrors. He who wishes to close his eyes to his hearts truth sleeps on rocks and jagged knives. He who clamors with the world against the individual heart breaks his own. He speaks lies to himself when he curses you, and he brings rottenness to his own bones by the power of his words. He falls from his own grace without knowing it.

But there in him waits patiently the truth.
And he who climbs and falls, climbs again by the will of his faith.
He who dreams of the silent welcome of night,
And the warm embrace of day,
And the communion with all life both great and small,
And the power of creation at his hands to do wonders;
He is one who shall overcome his malady of fear.

For in his heart is the truth of the beginning and the ending.
There deep within is the righteousness of his soul.

What purpose of man is there but to remember this?

Awaken you who slumber in your skin.

My path is unfolding,
With great diligence I strive to reveal my former reality.

What creature am I to hold such a dream?
When greatness is the gift of a kiss given unto me,
How then can I not with Passion seek to rebuild the temple?
How then can I rest among the sheep, knowing I am the wolf?
Knowing I am the sun and the stars and the space between
Knowing I am adorned with both light and dark,
Knowing I am eternal,
Knowing I am.

Ryan o0o


All Words and Images (unless otherwise noted)
Copyright © 2013 Ryan Ranney – Ranney Studios
“Shadow Lake” Graphical Photo/Image ©2011 Colleen Ranney – used with permission
All Rights Reserved