Inner Whispers

The Eye of God (Courtesy NASA)

The Eye of God
(Courtesy NASA)

Whispers from within,
I feel the pull of self,
Deeper self,
Real self,
Inner self,
The self of God.

Silence, stillness,
Within the rush around,
Provides strength
To listen,
To hear,
To respond
To the voice
From within,
My inner self.

No more wondering,
No more thinking,
No more concern,
…. All is in hand.

That voice within
Will lead me home,
Help me to fulfill reason,
Purpose,
As need is.

Seeking blocks my path,
Being opens flow,
Thinking restricts being,
Listening opens heart,
Shares life,
Finds love.

It was, and is, there all the time.
We just need to listen.

****

© Copyright 2015 Robin McShane

A Temporary Life

Time it spun away from me
Reaching out, it flew right past
Far from my range and out of grasp
A fantasy of existence passed

Interesting to see anew
A whole world in a shell
Tumbling, turning on itself
Seeing nothing outside it’s spell

Eternal lifetime spent outside
Does nothing to prepare
For once we’re drawn inside
Our souls are ravaged and stripped bare

Like children in a new world
We search for sense and meaning
The Universe, like parents
Can but watch us roil in our demeaning

Then when we step outside
Return to paths long trod
The Universe embraces us
The all-encompassing God

Experiences gathered all as one
Lifetimes put as gain
For spiritual development
Rolls on and on again

‘Time’ spent inside this capsule
Is but a blink of eye
For lifetime in Eternity
Goes far beyond you and I

 

© Copyright Robin McShane – August 2014
All rights reserved as per this blogs copyright statement

Creation? God?

Wondering why time began
I fell into the wormhole of thought,
Tumbling, stumbling, falling hard,
Making sense of nothing sound
Yet feeling somewhere,
In the beginning of it all,
There must have been a purpose,
Common ground,
Somewhere to share all the knowledge there is,
Some place to put all experience felt,
A vault, small secure,
A sea vast and wide,
A repository of all lives, thoughts, feelings,
Choices, decisions, indecisions,
Personalities, people, spirits and souls,
Somewhere where we all will go
When time is finished, done, washed up,
Leaving nothing but thought behind,
Or emptiness.

© Copyright Robin McShane July 2014

Going Home

Life on Earth is taking strain
Do we forget from whence we came?

Of course we do and there’s the curse,
This distance growing makes it worse.

Yet just a single thought away,
We can be home, at rest, at play.

Who says life here is so hard
When it’s us who choose to think our path?

And God stands with us as we grow,
Ever more closely, going home.

Floods of Life

Men flew through shadows deep,
Raucous birds a-calling,
Rivers ran through fields asleep
Drowning in their falling.

Houses lost, homes all gone,
Buildings washed away,
Will we be able to survive
The rains that fell that day?

People tell of worse,
When lands were all a-flood,
So many moons ago,
Yet no-one mentions blood.

Blood of ages, blood of sin,
Blood that’s carried through,
From year to year, man to man,
Red, dark red and blue.

So light the torches, bring the flame,
Rekindle fires and lamp.
Bring on the heat, bring on the light,
And banish all the damp.

And those of us now sitting dry,
Look down upon the mess,
But for the Grace of God say you,
The death, the pain, the stress.

Begin again, take the new,
See this as favour done,
For out of ashless comfort zones,
Arises new life won.

Large of eyes, pale of face,
Looking all around,
Bewildered by this chance of fate,
Standing on new ground.

Events of life, controlled or not,
Change us deep within,
And carry portents for the rest,
“Let go of all your whims!”

Life is transient, belongings more,
As stewardship is given,
Ownership is obsolete,
As soul’s experience now driven.

This time, this place, this precious now,
To which we all belong,
Will have it’s way, give us life,
And take us all along.

© Copyright Rob McShane – March 2014

Ephemeral

T’was Sunday morning on the farm,
The cows had all been milked,
The pigs lay softly snorting,
The fences all rebuilt.

Chickens were a-clucking,
Dogs barking away,
Rain had started falling,
On this quiet, special day.

The breakfast table groaned
With a hearty meal to come,
Coffee sat a-brewing
As the farmer thought him done.

But dark clouds now came rolling in,
Threatening their stay,
The painter’s brush so wide and cruel
Would paint them all away.

The brush it swung so fast and true,
For the painter another role,
And the farmer and his merry bunch
Thought that they were in control.

How sad to think we live our lives
In the illusion that they’re real,
Until another comes along
And all the skins unpeel.

Our canvass fades before us,
What we thought was ours for keeps,
Then simply disappears,
Into the ether seeps.

© Copyright March 2014 Rob McShane
All rights reserved

Purpose? Reason?

Life followed me.
Wherever I went, it followed me.
Damned annoying at times.
I just wanted to escape it…and it followed.
Darkest despair; fun and games;
Pain and hurt; love and light;
Brighter times; nursery rhymes.
All of life, all the time, there,
Waiting for me to grab it,
Absorb the fullness,
Enjoy the offering,
Experience it completely.
All my choice, all the time.

With people all around,
Loving, supporting,
Hating, destroying.
All having their say
As they see it.
But they don’t know,
How can they?
It is mine,
Between me and God.
As I cannot know theirs,
They cannot know mine,
My purpose,
My reason,
Only God and my soul know.
So I leave it there
And listen to the guidance
From the voice inside,
The soft, quiet, gentle voice
Of wisdom and knowledge.
The fountain of the stream of our purpose,
Leading us to the river of why we are here,
And the sea of where we will be.

© Copyright Rob McShane – February 2014. All Rights reserved