We listened to George Fox and his dreams
rumble into the distant evening
about a great People to be gathered
how in his depression and melancholy,
he imagined an Ocean of Light
to overcome an Ocean of Darkness in his heart.
We breathed love’s sweet perfume in our heart,
open to the gathering darkness and our dreams,
sliding on steep rubble into the waning light,
pierced by Cupid’s arrow in an elongated evening,
our rhythmic steps in tune, overcoming painful melancholy,
become wanderers in new bodies to be gathered.
We walked into West Yorkshire together, gathered
into a cloud of fleshy riot of the heart,
squeezing through stiles, stepping over our melancholy,
hearts aching, nearly overcome by hideous dreams,
overlooking the Irish Sea on a perfectly clear evening
to walk across thick, springy moss into a disappearing light.
We prayed to be guided by the Quaker Inner Light,
unable to stay still, hard gravel at the feet, we gathered
the roots of Quakerism up Pendel Hill into the evening
as a stiff wind blew around, filling the heart,
touched by a music in our loins, dreams
blocking out depression, melancholy.
We looked to George Fox, how he overcame his troubled melancholy
as we followed his Quaker footsteps into the Light.
We tuned-up our evening dreams
like feeling a new blood coursing through us, gathered
out of the windy fell-tops of the heart
to enter fully into a meditative rest on a July evening.
We heard organ-like lectures by John Punshon through the evening
how Fox’s great vision overcame his melancholy,
his footsteps taking him into his shattered heart,
unable to resist the impulse to see an Ocean of Light,
how it was now possible to realize a great People, gathered
together, a truth carried by his body and words into dreams.
We entered the oncoming evening and Fox’s dreams,
realizing that his own melancholy gathered
all together into the heart of our Quaker Inner Light.