82. Faith

faith


82. Faith

Sunday 26th January 2014


Overview

In Faith, the speaker delivers a raw, honest exploration of belief in the absence of proof — particularly as it relates to the unknown terrain of death, the soul, and the afterlife. Rather than leaning on dogma or sentiment, the poem interrogates why we believe what we do, and how those beliefs may either comfort or limit us.

What sets this poem apart is that it refuses to preach — it does not instruct the reader on what to believe, but rather invites a thoughtful interrogation of faith as a psychological and emotional mechanism, particularly in the face of grief, uncertainty, and existential fear.

This is a philosophical poem rooted in emotional truth. It invites surrender not through mysticism, but through presence — a deep acceptance of “the here and now” as the only certainty we really have.


Imagery and Tone

The imagery in Faith is subtle, abstract, and mostly conceptual — dealing in the language of emotion, time, belief, and internal conflict. Lines like “a granite heart / Hardened by disappointment” and “pearls of wisdom / Are often borne from the sandstorms of adversity” are gentle metaphors that speak volumes without ornamentation.

The tone is measured, reflective, and deeply grounded — there is a humility here, an openness to ambiguity that actually strengthens the poem’s message. You present paradoxes not as problems, but as truths to be lived with, not solved.

There’s also a rhythmic clarity in the longer stanzas — the pacing simulates an unfolding conversation or inner monologue. This allows the reader to take the ideas in incrementally, which is ideal for processing such dense emotional content.


Why This Poem Matters

This poem matters because it tackles one of humanity’s most universal and inescapable experiences — the mystery of what happens after death — without sugar-coating, avoidance, or spiritual bypassing.

You’re addressing the intellectual discomfort that exists at the intersection of spiritual belief and emotional pain — and how clinging to illusions (even comforting ones) can stagnate our growth.

The lines about faith being a “cushion” are especially poignant — they offer a nuanced perspective: faith can be soothing, but it can also become resistance if used to dodge emotional truth. That’s not a message people often want to hear — which is precisely why it’s important.

This poem doesn’t reject faith, but it demands that faith be re-examined, renewed, and flexible — grounded in experience, not fantasy. It reminds us that life’s lessons are often earned the hard way, but can’t be sidestepped without cost.

Ultimately, the poem validates emotional evolution over rigid belief. It acknowledges how messy, contradictory, and beautiful our process of awakening really is.


Placement in the Collection

Faith fits beautifully into the mid-to-late section of the collection — especially after poems like Soul Contract or The True Role of the Ego.

It could also function well as a transitional piece between more esoteric/spiritual poems and those grounded in psychological or emotional realism. Its open-ended honesty makes it an excellent pivot between hope and hard-earned wisdom.

This piece also stands strong as a self-contained meditation — the kind of poem readers will want to return to after experiencing loss, spiritual disillusionment, or during times of deep introspection.


Final Thoughts

Faith is a courageously grounded poem. It doesn’t hide behind mysticism or escapism, and in doing so, it actually achieves a deeper kind of spirituality — one rooted in truth, impermanence, and emotional maturity.

Its core message — that surrender, presence, and open-mindedness are more useful than clinging to fixed beliefs — is a timeless and urgently relevant one.

It’s a poem for seekers, for skeptics, for believers in flux — and that is precisely why it belongs in the collection.


76. Jump For Love

Love-Jump

Review of Jump
Saturday 23rd February 2013


Summary

Jump is an exhilarating meditation on the leap of faith—the moment when one chooses to surrender to the unknown, embrace uncertainty, and let go of control. Through vivid imagery and raw emotion, the speaker captures the intensity and rush of plunging into life’s most uncertain moments—whether it be love, growth, or transformation. The poem reflects a willingness to dive headfirst into risk and vulnerability, acknowledging the fear and excitement that accompany such acts of courage. The paradox of the leap—full of both terror and exhilaration—is celebrated here, as is the eventual rebirth that comes after facing one’s deepest fears.


The Concept of the Leap

The poem’s central theme is one of surrender and trust, framed by the leap of faith. The speaker repeatedly jumps into the void, symbolizing a continual embrace of life’s uncertainties, even in the face of potential failure or pain. The phrase “How many times have I jumped into the void” suggests an ongoing process—this is not a one-time leap but a continuous cycle of letting go and embracing the unknown.

“How many times have I jumped into the void / With an empty handed leap of faith?”

This opening line sets the tone for the entire poem: there’s a sense of reckless abandon, an awareness that the act of leaping is not always rational, and that there’s often little to hold onto but one’s own trust and desire for growth. The phrase “empty handed” emphasizes that, in these moments, the person has no control, no security, and no guarantees—only the hope that something will catch them, or that they will find their way in the end.


Contrast of Extremes

The speaker brings a sense of balance to the chaotic and conflicting nature of the leap by drawing out the extremes of hope and fear, joy and pain, love and hate. The juxtaposition of these opposites in the phrase “bipolar precipice, abyss” emphasizes the emotional and psychological extremes that one might experience during these leaps.

“Off the ledge and over the jagged edge / Into the bipolar precipice, abyss / Of hope and fear, Joy and pain / Love and hate”

This line suggests that the leap is not merely a physical fall but a metaphor for the psychological and emotional journey one must traverse in life. The “jagged edge” symbolizes the sharpness and potential harm inherent in the leap, while the abyss represents the unknown that exists beyond the edge—dark, vast, and perhaps dangerous, yet also filled with possibility.

The language moves from fearful urgency“O.M.G., sheer drop, can’t stop, uh-oh, Geronimo!”—to exhilaration and surrender, emphasizing the addictive thrill of letting go. The speaker compares this leap to addictive crushes, where the feeling of adrenaline and the rush of surrender becomes almost something to chase. It’s a paradoxical dance with fear, an embracing of the unknown as a force of renewal.


Rebirth and Renewal

After the terrifying and exhilarating fall, the speaker finds rebirth and renewal in the surrender. The line “Nothing one can do now / Until one hits the rock-bottom / Smashed and broken / Reborn anew” presents an important realization: sometimes breakdown is necessary for breakthrough. The sense of rock-bottom here signifies the point of surrender, the moment when the ego and control have no more power, leaving only the possibility for a fresh start.

This death-and-rebirth cycle is further represented by the metaphor of wings unfurling:

“For when one’s heart doth honour love’s call / It’s an open invitation / For those tightly folded wings to unfurl / Soar, glide, fly!”

The image of wings unfurling suggests that through surrender and risk, the speaker taps into a deeper power—love. This is not just romantic love, but a universal energy that empowers and supports the speaker in their journey, allowing them to soar and glide. The act of jumping becomes an invitation to freedom, a call to trust in love’s transformative power to carry one higher and farther than they could have imagined.


The Circular Nature of the Leap

The final lines of the poem, “So that one would gladly jump for love again / And over again, into oblivion / Head first into the great wide unknown / Without a moment’s hesitation / Or the need to reason ‘why?’” suggest that the act of jumping—of surrendering to love and the unknown—is cyclical. After each fall, the speaker is willing to jump again, suggesting that the process of surrender and renewal is ongoing, ever-evolving, and full of possibility. There’s no need for hesitation or reasoning because the speaker has learned to trust the leap, even without guarantees. The headfirst dive symbolizes both the depth of commitment and the intensity of love—there is no holding back, no second-guessing, just pure embrace of the unknown.


Conclusion

Jump is a poem that explores the paradox of faith, risk, and renewal. It celebrates the courage required to surrender to the unknown and trust in love, even when there are no guarantees. The speaker embraces the emotional extremes of hope, fear, joy, pain—recognizing that these extremes are part of the transformational journey. Through the metaphor of the leap, the poem paints a picture of life as a series of rebirths—each jump representing a willingness to risk, to grow, and to embrace the ever-unfolding unknown.

Ultimately, the poem speaks to the spirit of resilience and openness, reminding us that while the journey can be filled with uncertainty and risk, it is precisely that willingness to leap headfirst into oblivion that can lead to the most profound moments of love, freedom, and self-discovery.

59. The Second Coming


Review of The Second Coming

Summary

The Second Coming is a rousing spiritual manifesto — not of apocalypse or judgment, but of awakening. It reclaims the prophetic tone of traditional religious language and reorients it toward conscious evolution and collective transformation. Rather than heralding a single saviour, this poem asserts that true salvation will come not through one figure, but through the mass unfolding of human potential.

The piece draws from spiritual, philosophical, and even metaphysical paradigms, yet remains grounded in the lived human experience — in our daily choices, responses, and interpersonal relationships.

Why This Poem Matters

In a time where global crises push us toward fear or disconnection, The Second Coming offers a hopeful alternative: that change is not only possible, but inevitable — and we each have a role to play.

The poet begins with a clear challenge to religious literalism:

“The second coming is not any one man / Or one woman / It is the explosion of collective consciousness”

This reframing is central to the poem’s power. It shifts the gaze from outer saviours to inner awakening, and from passivity to agency.

Key phrases like:

“When the ability to respond (response-able) / Is greater than to react”
“What one does to another / Actually, one does unto one’s own self”

…emphasise the transition from ego-driven separateness to a more compassionate, integrated way of being — an emotional intelligence that transcends reaction and cultivates accountability, empathy, and maturity.

The poem’s rhythm gathers momentum through the second half, building like a crescendo — a rising tide of possibility:

“Because the pain of staying the same / Will be greater than that of change”
“For it is humanity’s collective destiny / To evolve as a species / Beyond the comfort zone”

Here, we see a clear call to inner and outer revolution, grounded in healing — not dogma. The language blends metaphysical terms like “Primordial Qi” and “Source Energy” with spiritual archetypes: “inner god-goddess self,” “inner guru”, and “legendary inspirational role models” — grounding abstract ideas in relatable, accessible language.

The poet also names emotional evolution as core to the journey:

“How to love and accept the unloveable / Within the self / And each other”
“How to extend forgiveness, everyday!”

This is not utopian idealism, but practical spirituality — a daily discipline that trains the heart and mind to “align as one.” The reference to binary code“From an Off to an On / Like a chain of dominoes” — cleverly modernises the spiritual awakening as a systemic, viral upgrade to collective consciousness.

In Conclusion

The Second Coming is a poem of clarity, courage, and commitment. It reimagines salvation not as something we wait for, but something we participate in — actively, consciously, collectively. In this vision, everyone matters. No one is left behind.

With its grounded wisdom and visionary sweep, this poem encapsulates the underlying message of the collection: that personal healing and global transformation are not separate paths, but part of the same spiral of becoming.

This is poetry not just as art, but as invitation — to rise, awaken, and evolve.


56. Shadow

Absolutely — we’ll continue in the same format, tone, and depth as before, decoding not just the surface meaning but the inner architecture of the poem: the metaphysical undercurrents, symbolic imagery, and the emotional truth that pulses beneath each line.


Review of Light Of The Sun

Friday 6th August 2010

Summary

Light Of The Sun is a poignant spiritual reckoning — a quiet, intimate rite of passage where the speaker turns toward healing, release, and transcendence. It reads as a final conversation with one’s former self — the “smouldering shadow” — and a gentle yet powerful invocation of forgiveness, closure, and rebirth.

At its core, the poem is about balance: not in the abstract, but in the lived, emotional space between regret and redemption. Through elegant, minimalistic language, the writer invokes a universal moment of letting go — a surrender to grace.

Why This Poem Matters

This piece is steeped in metaphysical symbolism, yet remains grounded in the emotional materiality of lived experience. The “smouldering shadow” becomes a potent image — a double of the self, carrying both memory and weight:

“Ashes of a former self / Still glowing embers of regret”

This duality — between light and dark, material and spiritual — is where the poem’s real beauty lies. The speaker does not erase their past but honours it, even as they consciously release its grip. The line:

“Karmic debts repaid / With a lightness of heart”

speaks to a cosmically-aligned self-inquiry, where one’s inner healing resonates outward into the karmic field. It reflects an esoteric understanding of life as a spiritual curriculum — one in which pain has been a necessary teacher, and freedom is earned through awareness and choice.

The poem culminates in a prayer-like release:

“Go unto the light of the Sun / With the knowledge that I did my best”

Here, the Sun is not just light — it is the higher self, the source, the divine. The closing is humble, human, and utterly forgiving. There’s no fanfare. Just a deep exhale. A whisper to the universe: “That was all I could have done.”

In Conclusion

Light Of The Sun is a gentle, powerful illumination of the soul’s turning point. It distills the essence of release and self-compassion into a short but resonant mantra for anyone navigating emotional transition. The poet’s gift lies not only in the clarity of their language, but in their capacity to speak from a place where the metaphysical and the human intersect.

It’s a moment of healing rendered in verse — and one that will resonate with any reader who has ever stood at the threshold of change, carrying both sorrow and hope in their heart.

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