The Real Philosophers Stone

A King’s canyon emerges out of life’s fissures,

The intense pressures carved in stone,

Like a hot knife through butter,

As the force of nature,                                                              

Mysterious and unbridled,

Causing chasms,

Driving to the heart

Of what truly matters.

 

Our nature is as wild as the climate,

Bombarded by great forces that catalyse change,

As ecological time is governed by an astronomical clock,

Discovering carbon footprints that mark impressions,

Layering sedimentary rock,

As rings around the tree of life,

Marking time with space,

Leaving space for time to observe,

For the inquisitive investigator gathers clues,

As curling questions fire renewable philosophies,

About who we truly are.

 

Somehow the dilemmas of the present moment,

Fade and erode into insignificance,

Like sands through an hour glass,

As I hold the rock of Gibraltar,

I ponder the treaty of Utrecht,

A peace treaty,

A balance of power,

A sacred seal set in stone,

A Rosetta stone,

Decoding hieroglyphics,

To find the true meaning of life,

Is found in the heart of my inquiry,

Pointing to a new field of knowledge,

Flowering and flowing,

To which I am inspired.

 

The King’s canyon,

Indeed a grand canyon,

History silently held in the palm of my hand,

As I feel the coldness of time,

Changing the landscape,

In-formed in questioning contours,

Twists and turns,

Maize’s and blind alleys,

Textures and contrasts of the past,

Shaping inquiry as truth persists,

As reason searches for answers in the heart,

Igniting further questions,

To find love is the answer,

To humankind’s dilemmas.

 

I journey the world in search of my meaning,

I am in-formed by Easter Islanders keeping watch for visitors over the horizon,

The Pyramids star gazing Orion,

Stonehenge circling the precession of constellations,

The Mayan Pyramid of Chichen Itza,

A serpent spiraling wisdom oscillating at the winter solstice,

As the earth tilts away from the sun,

Angkor Wat’s inner temples of enlightenment,

The Greek Parthenon birthing a global civilisation,

Observing and interacting with the heavens in space over time.

 

For always in the relics of our knowledge,

Spiral mysteries are unfurled and expanding,

Leaving messages set in stone,

Higher-glyphics of deeper meaning,

Gently chiseling the stonemasonry of who we are,

As nature intended.

 

The Philosopher’s Stone,

Silently reminds us that the truth is real,

That it appears …

Hard,

Uncompromising,

Indelible,

Unbending,

Persistent,

Yet in truth it is just true to its own nature,

How can one be water when it is a rock?

Yet water shapes rock,

And rock is a channel for water,

Same same but different,

Working in universal harmony,

As life crafts change,

To benefit all life,

As the purpose of life itself.

 

For life has left deep impressions on its surface,

Grafting life to unchanging truth,

Standing like a beacon for those who are seeking motifs,

And as I hold the Philosopher’s Stone in my warm hand,

I no longer feel the coldness as hard,

I no longer wish for it to be soft and warm,

I wish to accept that it is birthed into a shape by nature,

 

And life has carved its complexion,

Its surface,

Its weaknesses,

Its strengths,

Its contradictions,

Perfectly,

 

How would I try and change the truth of what is so,

Without appreciating,

Its natural beauty.

 

So this is for all those seeking to change the world,

The world is change,

And the next question is –

Into what shape do you think it should change?

Even if it changed for you,

Would that be a truthful change?

What if I was to step back and appreciate what is natural,

For I know not from where it comes,

Or its purpose in this life,

I only know that your presence in this world,

Changed my life.

 

The Philosopher’s Stone can appear unmoving and lifeless,

Yet it is full of life,

Life is the great artist and the designer,

And as I climb my mountain to gain a vantage point,

To see further than self interest,

I see no advantage in my desire for change,

I see it as futile as the wind swept plains

seeking stillness,

The painted desert seeking monsoons,

For the ecological chorus is diversity,

As our contrasts shape who we are.

 

I did not create the Kings chamber,

I do not know why the pyramids rise out of the desert,

I have no idea of what the underworld is,

And if it is down under,

Or as above so below,

I only know that ‘I think therefore I am’

As I think therefore my world is what I see,

And the only change that is created,

Is when I change my thoughts,

Of what I think it should be.

 

So from this day I change my thoughts to a songline,

And sing sweetly …

‘ke sera sera what ever will be will be’,

 

And I return to the freedom of who you are,

Which is unchanged,

And I see nothing more beautiful then your presence in this world,

Which is unique,

Without critique,

For as I change my world changes,

And the true beauty returns to me,

As my own reflection,

For it was always unchanging,

When I chose to look to really see,

The truth that set’s me free,

And this is the Philosopher’s Stone,

That life has given to me,

 

That truth is change,

Yet unchanging,

 

It is the greatest gift,

I give to you,

 

For always I loved you,

And that was unchanging,

As it was truth,

As you changed me,

In truth.