The Lightning Paths

 

The Lightning Paths

 

Before lightning strikes

feeders unseen to the ordinary I

travel all possible paths through the air

to find the one way to bolt to earth.

Before the secret green cells in the leaf

drink from its suncatchers, light walks

every path through the protein scaffold.

 

Scientists say that any road taken

collapses all possible paths.

In the leaf, in the air, in a human span

no road, perhaps, is entirely untaken.

If our lives are gardens of forking paths

what happens when we take one branch

with the definite body? Do possible selves

travel on along all the possible paths?

Can we meet each other?

Can the branching paths rejoin?

 

In default mode I departed a mental map

and followed a road I thought I had left

towards an old place. When I saw my error

I thought at least I was on familiar ground

on my ghost trail. I bulled across many lanes

to make an utterly wrong turn and did not see

I was speeding the wrong way on the Royal Road

until I met a familiar, a bull on a steakhouse sign.

 

It's not so easy to get back on a road you left.

To get my head around this

I'll go on a quantum walk tonight

like light in the leaf, like lightning's feeders,

we try all paths in our dreams.

When we are witness to ourselves

we can change the default mode

and weave the many roads into the right one.

- Robert Moss

Kin to lightning

Drummer in the clouds

you awaken me.

In childhood, you put a spear
of bright fire through my body.
I did not die,
I did not even cry out.

When I was in the dark water
you leaned over me
and told me to get out.

When you came to my farm
and moved over the barn roof
as a serpent of red fire
you were kindly
choosing to ground yourself
in the one unlikely place
that left us safe, but awake.

On a night among strange days
you fired your bolts into the corn
like a long-range gunner
homing in on a target
until you accepted the embrace
of the white oak that knew you well.

Soul of Thunder, Bright Awakener ,
may I ride with you
on your return journeys
to your kingdom above the clouds

From the collection Here, Everything is Dreaming: Poems and Stories by Robert Moss. Published by Excelsior Editions.

Art: J.M.W. Turner, "Lake Thun, Switzerland'

Voice of lightning

I strike fast, but before I strike I probe for the best way through the air currents, sending down feeders you cannot see.

I am drawn to oak trees, and to humans who have the quality of oak, hanging on to their foliage when other trees have shed theirs, standing tall, deep-rooted in earth, but always reaching for the sky.

I fall in love, as humans and spirits do. The humans I love best will be stroked by my fire and can read my movements in energy fields. They will be challenged, as others are, to ground my power safely, because I sometimes forget that these soft animals are weak vessels that need to conduct my force instead of holding it to themselves.

Connect with me, and you take on my speed, my ability to focus energy – and the challenge of remaining grounded and of passing on my gifts.

Voice of Lightning

I strike fast, but before I strike I probe for the best way through the air currents, sending down feeders you cannot see. I am drawn to oak trees, and to humans who have the quality of oak, hanging on to their foliage when other trees have shed theirs, standing tall, deep-rooted in earth, but always reaching for the sky. I fall in love, as humans and spirits do. The humans I love best will be stroked by my fire and can read my movements in energy fields. They will be challenged, as others are, to ground my power safely, because I sometimes forget that these soft animals are weak vessels that need to conduct my force instead of holding it to themselves.

Connect with me, and you take on my speed, my ability to focus energy – and the challenge of remaining grounded and of passing on my gifts.