The Good Void – a poem by Alan Rycroft

The Good Void

Though I ride through flood and through flame
Through death throes and the birthing of a world
Through the battlefield’s roar and the
Peace of the ships of no thought
Crossing the windless sea;
Though I sift through sands of delusion
Boundless as the truth,
May I come at last
To the Good Void.

Though I journey vasts of jungles
And searing desert plains,
Through the savagery of cities
And the mute grief of the earth
Through the vortex of the mind
Pulled out to open sea
By stronger currents of the heart;
Though my ending be
Where I pristinely start
May I come at last
To the Good Void.

Through all I have done for the light
And the many wrongs I have failed to right
Though the flowers of enlightenment are grown
From the dung heap of self will –
Fell pride of Adam and the fall,
Though I climb the peaks of heaven
Down the stairwells of hell
Though I wrestle my way through the veil
And would tear it entirely from her face,
I cannot see the beauty of it all
Till I come at last
To the Good Void.

Though I am come with the wound of riches
From the wasted realms of ten thousand kings,
I am an old gentleman of the road
Who has nothing, and sleeps in a ditch!
Though I am that I am
Through the dreaming of dreams
And nightmares without end
Though I’d shine like an angel of light
To the elect on the crystalline walls of Jerusalem,
My flesh shrivels daily
On this bag of bones
Till I come at last
To the Good Void.

Alan Rycroft was born in London in 1957, though long based in Bristol with his family. His life has often taken him on a planetary odyssey being a qualified Lecturer with an MA in Applied Linguistics, he has been engaged in teaching English across universities and companies in the Middle East and Far East. He has been much privileged and enriched to imbibe and interact with so many faith traditions and cultural influences globally.  All the while he says poetry has been a constant comfort, companion and mentor, has quietly distilled a profound and rich internal dialogue of self understanding and realization, at once a form of therapy and illumination, as well as exacting taskmaster and craft. Simultaneously , the  poetic venture has been a conversing with inner Spirit, trying to catch that ever elusive resonance and the multidimensional voices of the heart, by turns, colloquial human and every day, mythic, shamanistic, high philosophical and spiritually enlightening striving for a universal authentic explication.  His Collection At the Steep Face of Your Heart is forthcoming; he can be contacted on :

1 Comment

  1. Dah says:

    “My flesh shrivels daily
    On this bag of bones
    Till I come at last
    To the Good Void” –– excellent! ––))


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