• Home
• News
• About Me
• Exhibitions
• Gallery Info
• Picture Info
• Ltd. Ed. Prints
• Links
• Contact

The Rose Still Grows

It is late in the year and yet a rose still grows strong,
Its sweet mysterious fragrance greets me alluringly
And its outer form is softened by the evening sun.
Again, I am surprised by its appearance:
It is unexpected, almost mystical,
Like the spirit that weaves through the free air
Out of the body, travelling unseen,
Master of the invisible, the welcome visitor.

And out of the ether she appears:
Her aura aflame with the desire for friendship:
Rose hues shimmer against a vivid scarlet
And I am captivated by the vision,
So fleeting, but so beautiful in the gloaming.
She knows how to get the response she wants:
The touch, the smile, the hug, the word,
And so it is that she remains in my thoughts.

Written by Mark Woollacott
5th November 2011.
© 2011 Mark Woollacott. All rights reserved.

 

Eternity

Where do the feet fall of those
Who tread the soft ground of eternity?
Does the soul still sense its surroundings
In the same way it did when a body encased it on earth?
Is the world of the sublime a mirror of the world of dust:
A reflection of land, water and sky?
Is the grass as verdant, are the lakes as full?
Are the mountains of rock and stone as high?
Are the grains of sand still kissed
By the warmth of a blazing sun?

And whilst souls are in their earthly bodies,
Living, laughing and talking, is eternity near or far?
Is it possible to hear those fair souls
That have already left their earthly bodies, so long ago?
Is it possible to feel their presence, to sense their arrival,
Whenever they visit the land of the living,
And understand the special link between
The dust and the sublime: a treasured communication?
For the feeling of love for all things on earth
Must surely be the natural expression of the soul.

Are the places to be found in eternity
Shaped only by the writings and art of religion,
Or is the soul's experience of eternity shaped
By its own earthly beliefs, hopes and fears?
Is eternity beyond anything
That can possibly be imagined or prepared for;
Is it like a dream, a mirage, an illusion,
A world that can shift from one moment to the next,
Never fixed in time, never absolute,
Never in a state of permanence,
But altering constantly to the whim
Of the soul's mind, wheresoever it steers?

Is eternity an endless emotional experience that transforms
And elevates the soul to the greatest bliss?
Is eternity experienced alone or forever
In the company of the pure and the beautiful?
Is there a set path to follow that can lead the soul
To wisdom and toward a greater evolution,
Or is eternity tailoured to each individual soul
In order to meet its own particular expectations and needs
At a level which can be coped with, moment by moment,
As it finds itself perpetually immersed in light?

Is eternity the 'great endless existence'
Which saturates the entirety of the spiritual universe:
A borderless field where any soul may walk,
A shoreless ocean where any soul may bathe or swim
An endless sky where any soul may fly,
An infinite space where any soul may explore?
Is eternity the continuation of a process
Which allows each soul to change again and again
To mature further and become something more
And better than it once was?

In eternity, does the soul's earthly memories eventually fade
As it leaves behind the identity and the ego;
Or will it always remember the moments, the people,
The places it once knew and loved?
Will the soul become a member of a new community
And make friends and find a purpose
Or will the soul lack clarity in its mind
And cling desperately to earth as if it were still living:
Unable to move on, unable to grasp the significance
Of eternity, the endless after-life?

Written by Mark Woollacott
29th August 2011.
© 2011 Mark Woollacott. All rights reserved.

 

Beauty Will Save The World

The old woman calmly looked at me
As if her eyes were reading the story of my soul.
And in the silence, as her expression displayed
The peaceful lines of her natural serenity,
Her contemplation passed
And she became fully aware of the present.
And with a clarity of mind, so astute and penetrating
She addressed me thus:

'Ten years have almost passed
And still a word has yet to be exchanged;
And though she has watched you
Walk, breathe, read and toil,
She has yet to make the contact
That will encourage Peace to soothe her mind.
And though you both hold back
Knowing not how the first word should become manifest,

The solution is simple, and it will come
As if taking the most natural and purest breath.
Then, you shall see how pleasantness
Can evolve from just a few words:
A greeting, so soft and charming: a voice
That will melt your heart where you stand;
And it will give birth to a feeling that you never knew existed,
A warmth beyond the soul.

She will speak to you, and you shall reply;
She will smile and you will smile.
If you fail to reply, she will go away
And you shall stand once again in loneliness
In your small, isolated world,
Which brings no joy, meaning or contentment.
So, if your heart and mind are open
To the possibility of change, you should reply.'

Dwelling on the woman's words, I knew she was right.
But what if Fate should blind me:
Make me fail to see her just at the crucial moment
When she stands right before me?
What if my eyes and mind are cruelly distracted
Again, by some unseen, unhelpful force,
And intentionally steered away from all opportunity
During that truly brief period of time?

The old woman gazed at me and, as if perceiving
The underlying content of my thoughts, said:
'Your belief is such that even now,
After all the chances that have been placed before you,
You still doubt that you are capable, or that she
Will even appear, or will want to meet you now.
But I tell you this: for all who live,
For all who step closer each day towards Mother Destiny,

So brightly robed as she stands resplendent
Upon all earthly roads and pathways,
You will find it within you, at that precious
And most lovely moment, to break through your barrier
That perpetually seems to envelop
And hinder you in all social circumstances,
And you will look into the friendly eyes of this lady
Standing so close to you, and you will reply.

But when you find the moment arrives,
There may indeed be a pause before you speak;
For so overwhelmed will you become,
Acutely aware that the moment is finally upon you,
That the lightness and joy unfolding in your heart
May first steal away a few of your breaths
Before you can find yourself capable
Of uttering your very first words.

But she will stand, in patience and serenity
And she will wait for you.
And as she does so, so she will gaze
Comfortably and easily at you;
And, in her own private way,
She will also be treasuring the beauty of the moment
As she fully understands the feelings
That circulate so deeply within you.

And knowing how beauty affects your emotional heart
And feeds your creativity,
She will stand before you, in loveliness
Like the muse who longs only to inspire;
And she will know that in your mind, you are
Perceiving her as something glorious and elevated:
A lady, not unlike the gracious Beatrice
Who shone with light in Dante's eyes.

Her soul is large and beautiful,
But it will follow its own road, as will yours;
And in your evolving journey, there will be moments
Of healing and moments of reflection.
And as the world spins and time wraps itself about you,
So you shall look at the world anew
And through her friendship and love
So you shall discover your greatest joy.'

And so I thanked the old woman
For her words and for her precious time,
And as I left her home - a home built firmly
Upon the strongest foundations - I turned inward,
And, whilst in thoughtful and prolonged contemplation,
I journeyed into the countryside beyond
And wondered how it was that people
Could have such an impact on other people's lives.

As I wondered about such things, so eventually
My mind came to rest on the theme of beauty
And how the experience of it - which
Is so personal to every individual - could inwardly transform
And change a person in a way
That no other thing on earth could possibly achieve
And produce feelings so profound
That the experience could indeed be life-changing.

As I reflected further on this, so I concluded
That beauty, or the response to it,
Must in some way be like a saving moment for people
In their world of routine and ordinariness:
Like a sublime manifestation, appearing unexpectedly
In a world that has always been dim;
And so the resulting consequence is
A natural appreciation by the mind and heart.

But beauty is not only to be found
In the graciousness of the perfect woman, I reflected,
It is also to be found in many other things,
Among them: music, art and the natural world.
So many wonderful objects around us
Have the potential to stimulate and inspire:
To elevate our mood to such a degree
That the moment brings with it a sense of contentment.

So, beauty is the transformer of the moment
And through it, we can know how goodness feels:
Let it be the saving of the world and let us create more of it
So that we are surrounded by its gold;
Then, over time, more will become changed
And they themselves will inspire others,
So that never again will the moments of our lives
Be wasted within the shadows of our world.

 

Written by Mark Woollacott
18th February 2010.
Copyright © 2010 Mark Woollacott. All rights reserved.

 

The Goddess Aurora

From my lofty vantage, upon the lonely mountain
The world appeared almost small and insignificant.
Before me, the night weakened steadily
And began to lose its deeper nocturnal shades;
Even the stars, that had adorned the sky so beautifully
Began to soften their light,
And, in seeing their brilliance diminish,
I sensed the imminent approach of Aurora.

Cloaked in swathes of regal darkness and crowned with starlight
Night turned his kingly head,
And gazing toward the coming light
He acknowledged that his presence was no longer required,
And bowing in deference to the approaching goddess:
She who has always brought the dawn,
Who has always followed after him
Throughout the history of the world, took his leave.

In awed silence, I observed as Night mounted his sky chariot:
A chariot dark and ornate:
Driven by four impressive steeds,
Each one, black, powerful and mythical;
Who, without sign of complaint or resistance to their master's will,
Obeyed every command;
And, knowing of the journey that lay before them,
One so familiar and without end:

A journey in which these nocturnal beasts would never tire,
They drew the chariot silently on,
And, with unearthly power,
They led their stately master away, towards the west,
Where the air still lay cool and dark
And where the far horizon still shimmered with stars.
And towards this place, which lay between
The evening twilight and the rose-hued dawn,

Night continued to cast his kingly shadow
Upon a part of the slowly turning world,
Where people slept in ignorance
And lay slumbering within buildings made of earth.
And in their dreams and dramas,
Their minds were oblivious to the spectacle before me:
A spectacle that only a few,
Through the privilege of a vision, would ever perceive.

So enthralled was I by this otherworldly spectacle,
This perception of the mythical,
That it was a few moments
Before I remembered the approaching dawn;
And steering my gaze quickly toward the east,
So that I might give it my complete attention,
I waited in eager anticipation for Aurora's arrival
And for the first light of the morning.

As the deepest hues of indigo
Turned gradually to the palest shade of lilac,
So the lower part of the sky brightened
And glowed with the pinkness of a perfect rose;
And upon seeing this colour, knowing that its intensity
Would change as every moment passed,
My sense of expectation grew and, rising to my feet,
I readied myself for a greater wonder.

And while the sky became slowly transformed
With colour and with light
And its beauty unfolded before me like a flower,
Opening by the most pleasing display,
So my eyes caught their first glimpse of the goddess
As her chariot came into view
Which brightened the sky further
As it moved upon the tranquil currents of the morning air.

So glad was I to be able to witness such a moment
In such a place, at such a time,
That a sense of elation and appreciation was felt inside me;
And though I had always hoped
I would see the goddess in all her glory
And perceive the pure light she carried,
The reality of the moment and my appreciation of it
Finally impacted itself upon my emotions.

And where, one moment, I had been standing
With my feet firm upon a mountain peak,
The next, I found myself sitting, overwhelmed,
As my eyes watered with glad tears.
And beyond the tears that veiled my vision,
So the light in the sky became brighter,
And as I wiped the tears away, so that I might see clearly
Once again, I saw her come to me.

The sky chariot that carried the goddess
Approached without a sound;
Even the four steeds that drew her splendid chariot,
Whose coats shimmered like finely spun gold,
Cantered effortlessly and without noise through the morning air;
And within this beautiful light,
Which radiated in all directions from the goddess,
Were eight female attendants, shining bright:

All of them flying close to the sacred chariot
With expressions of joy upon their faces.
And each one wore a long sleeveless dress,
Coloured by the varied hues of the dawn;
And, on their young heads,
Which were lovely in the soft dawn light,
Were immaculate crowns, each adorned
With pink and peach-coloured roses.

Together, they sang in praise of the goddess
And of the light that illuminated their existence;
And to their sweet harmonies, they helped
To spread the fine rays of Aurora's light.
And as they showered the light about them
By means of an ancient and divine power
So they helped to lighten the sky further
And played their part in heralding the approach of day.

I gazed at them all in wonder,
For I esteemed them very highly in beauty and goodness:
For on the face of each attendant,
Whose youthful countenances were no doubt eternal,
Was the appearance of kindness;
And in the presence of such benevolence
I perceived the visage of Aurora brighten,
With laughter, and a joy glorious and pure.

The light of dawn was now all around me,
Changing from its roseate charm to a golden warmth
Which now glowed beautifully
Across the entire lower eastern sky;
And finding myself suddenly within a brighter pool of light,
In which the goddess now bathed me,
I found her attention upon me,
And for a moment only, she looked at me and smiled.

And in that moment, so precious and unforgettable,
There passed a communication;
And in my mind, I heard her voice
Calling my name with kindness and with pleasure:
Blessing me with holy words
And filling my heart with the love of her light.
And I, captivated by this experience
Felt as if the light of the world was glowing inside me.

I rose once more to my feet,
Almost blissful with delight;
And as I watched the goddess
And her female attendants pass smoothly over me
And journey beyond the mountain
Upon which I happily stood,
The four golden steeds led the sky chariot away
And carried its beautiful light toward the west.

But one surprise was left for me,
One which I had not anticipated;
And though the vision of Aurora's arrival and passing
Had been beautiful, but brief,
And I had deemed myself satisfied by the experience,
Which truly had been a privilege,
One of her attendants lightly descended to the mountain
And landed gracefully before me.

Gazing at the attendant's sublime loveliness,
I stood completely in awe of her;
And the attendant, who smiled at me,
Came forward and took hold of both my hands
And placed the most charming and the most
Innocent kiss upon my brow;
And, feeling her soft, affectionate touch,
I felt once again that sense of delight.

Truly, the attendant had the most beautiful face:
Her brown eyes, were pools of great kindness,
Her hair, like the other attendants, was long
And exquisite, and bore a crown of flowers
Which adorned her, almost regally,
Like a princess from some distant age:
An age when days were golden
And truly peaceful and free.

Her long sleeveless dress, reminded me
Of the dresses worn by those gracious women
Whose refined beauty, during the time of the Romans,
Were immortalized beautifully in their ancient art.
In colour, the dress was a deep rose, and upon it
Was embroidered the most luxurious pattern
Which seemed to shimmer like silk,
A golden brilliance in the dawn light.

And, like the fine golden aura
That glowed around the attendant,
So her happiness brightened
As she put forth such radiance about her
That the very air seemed to sparkle in response;
And even though the brightness was beautiful to gaze upon,
I could sense that its very special light
Carried more than mere illumination alone.

I was certain that her radiance conveyed
A part of the very essence of the goddess herself.
And, as if to confirm this assumption,
Which was entirely a conjecture within my mind,
The attendant spoke to me
And enlightened me with the wisdom from the ages;
And in a most pleasing voice,
That not even Venus herself could speak any sweeter, said:

'The light that you see around me,
Is indeed the light that has its origin from my Lady,
Bestowed upon me the very moment
When I first became attendant to the goddess:
A moment when my only motivation
Became the need to see your world in light;
A role that has given me pleasure
For every century that has passed before the gods.

My Lady goes now toward the west.
She can never stop, for her journey is endless
And she is duty bound by the natural laws
Of the world, its sky and the great spheres beyond
To ride her chariot from horizon to horizon
Each earthly day and paint the sky with colour:
Colours so beautiful they captivate
The hearts and minds of all who gaze upon them.

She cannot slow: for her brother, the Sun,
Always follows her gentle saffron-coloured wake,
And in his golden chariot, he flies after his sister
As if she were the marker of the morning path:
For Aurora's renewing of the morning
Signals the rhythm for the coming day,
As she is the light which leads all other lights
As Time progresses on its infinite journey.

But, as for my Lady's sister: The Moon,
Who arcs across the sky when Night shades the world,
She is greeted occasionally by my Lady
When her cycle brings her into view on early mornings;
But mostly, my Lady has only her attendants for company
As she fulfils her ancient duty
And brings beauty to the sky of the known world:
Beauty which poets and romantics are ever in appreciation of.'

Out of politeness, the attendant went quiet for a moment
As she sensed my desire to speak,
And as I looked upon her wonderful face,
Which was so full of happiness and loveliness,
I asked her if she had a name and if she
Had always been an attendant to the goddess;
And by showing such interest in the attendant,
Whose beauty glowed brighter at my question,

I remained gently held by her soft, perfect hands
As she answered my question like a friend:
'I am known to my Lady as Iola
And I am the youngest of her attendants.
In appearance, I may look young to you,
And in mortal terms, if you were to guess my age
I would be judged as one who was no more
Than twenty of your earth years old.

But I came into existence long before
The great ring of stones were erected in your land,
When people evolved slowly at their own measured pace
And learned a day at a time.
And in my world, where spirit is more beautiful than you can imagine,
I was found by my Lady
And in the presence of her light I knew at once
That I had found my bliss and saw my future duty.

My name means 'the violet coloured dawn'
And, by my faithful service to my Lady,
So I contribute to the dawn splendour
That forms in your eastern sky, each morning;
And so it is that all my Lady's attendants
Show reverence and delight to what is truly beautiful
And always fulfil their duty when the moment arrives
To reveal the light that announces the day.

My Lady bid me stop for you: she said
Your love for her was worthy of such a moment,
And although it pleased her to see you awaiting her arrival,
Filled with hope and anticipation,
She sends her love to thee and wishes you
Endless peace on earth for every day you live;
And through her love, she asks
That this vision will inspire and gladden you.'

Iola released me and removed one of the roses
That adorned her floral crown,
And placing it in my hands, she looked into my eyes
And smiled, and in the sweetest voice, said:
'Each rose that adorns my crown is timeless,
Yet its state has a perfect freshness and vitality
As if it had just been picked
From the fragrant gardens of the goddess Flora.

Regard the rose as a token of the love
And the joy that we feel for people like yourself:
The poets, the dreamers, the visionary artists
Who long to capture Aurora's eternal beauty in paint;
And although, once your vision comes to its end,
You will not physically perceive this rose,
Its spiritual essence will forever linger
In the heart place of your soul,

And this rose shall become a sign,
To those who can see such things,
And it will show that my Lady's blessing
Has truly been bestowed upon thee:
That you have indeed been touched
By the spiritual, in the most delightful way.
And every dawn, thereafter, which colours
The sky in glory, this rose will glow bright,

As Aurora appears and renews the morning sky
And announces the coming of the Sun.
And flying beside her, in my rightful place,
I will look for you and send you a silent greeting;
And like a kiss, so tender, yet filled
With such immeasurable joy and kindness,
I will touch you, as if the most pleasing breeze
Has just blown gently against you.

The dawn must always follow the night
As the world revolves, it is the way it is;
And soon the Sun will come into view as he begins
To climb the skies within a golden chariot:
Steadily gaining height so he may cast a greater light
Across the lands of the peaceful world.
And so I leave you now, to rejoin my Lady,
To fly through earthly skies... farewell.'

With complete ease and gracefulness,
Iola ascended lightly into the air,
And keeping my gaze upon her,
I watched in wonder as she flew from the mountain
And journeyed toward the west, where Aurora
And her attendants beautified the sky;
And when Iola became no more
Than a tiny point of radiance in the vastness of the sky,

I turned my eyes eastward, where the land was much clearer,
And saw the sky lighten further:
Turning almost golden orange where the sky was clear,
Just above the horizon.
And, gazing a little higher, to where dreamlike banks
Of slender lilac clouds lay serenely at rest,
With their delicate forms highlighted
In stunning rose pink at their outermost edges,

So the glow of the sky seemed to reach up to heaven,
As if to touch it with its unforgettable beauty;
And knowing that the Sun would soon make his appearance
And follow after his sister, the Dawn,
And cast his warmth upon all that lay before him,
Helping all living things to grow and thrive,
I sensed a subtle change in the way I perceived
The land and the colourful sky before me.

And, as when a painting of great beauty
Is unveiled for the very first time
And is eagerly looked upon by mortal eyes
And becomes treasured moment by moment
Until one knows, by means of intuition,
It is finally time to take one's gaze away from it
So that others, who may also be waiting
To see the very same painting,

May equally have an opportunity to behold
The same magnificence and loveliness,
So I realized my vision of the mythological
Was drawing to its natural conclusion;
And regretting that it should end so soon
And that I would not see the Sun in his majestic form,
I sighed and turned my gaze to the western sky
And, in silent gratitude, sent a prayer to Aurora.

 

Written by Mark Woollacott
14th March 2010.
Copyright © 2010 Mark Woollacott. All rights reserved.