Poems of Balance


Balance is the keeper of life,
the sustainer of the universe,
and the binder of order. 

Without these, we cannot be.

Balance can bring death, and chaos,
but this can bring hope and new life. 

So without tipping the scales,
Can balance not be achieved?

But balance is not black, nor white,
Not yin and yang,
Nor is it good, or evil.

Balance can be built in more than two sides of the same coin.

From the syllables of Awen,
in chanting of three,
to the three places of the sun in the sky.

As seen in the order of the balance holding elements,
we see five.
So ask yourself,
balance is just more than the number two,
it is something we are a part of.


Contrast in nature,
From the darkest pits,
To the bluest pools,
Predictably unpredictable,
You will always be. 

The wheel turns,
For better for worse
Yet to be seen
Always in balance
But differing in speed,
Never Stopping.

Natural Spirit.

I am the fruitful soil,
I am the floating feather,
I am the roaring flame,
and the tear in your eye. 

but in my centre is my being, my spirit, nature’s spirit.

See each element,
it’s wonderful glory,
because without them,
no creation would there be.

The great bear, hawk, the stag and the salmon, bathing in elemental glory.

The fire which lights out skies,
The vast water that conceals our fish,
The cool air in which we breathe,
and the Earth we live upon, our planet. 

Of all these, natural Spirit centres all,
is the central point of all other elements,
The Spirit in within the salmon, stag, bear and hawk,
The Spirit is within me, within you.


I stand at the centre of my being,
my middle,
my soul,
my conscience.

Not knowing where to turn,
I seek help from my guides,
I stand on my stepping stone,
Light and Dark in perfect balance.

To my left;
The light,
The prospect. 

To my right;
The Darkness,
The mystery.

This attractive offer, I cannot decide.
I make a promise and move into the light.
Life is a promise, Fulfill it!

On Balance

Between the worlds,
At the edge of light,
I sit, watching,
Waiting, Poised.
Balanced in perfect symmetry,
On the possibilities of choice.
With Ogham staves,
And tarot cards,
Strewn about your floor,
You reach for understanding
Across this ceaseless void.
But I sit at the centre,
At the balance of it all.
Poised on forever,
And the possibilities of choice.

The Way We Walk.

Walk the tightrope,
Stay focussed, Stay centred.
Onwards, straight ahead.
Don’t look down
Side to side.
Or up,
Definitely not behind.
We trust in the line before us
Waver, not to left nor right.
Safe in the place we are
Dark on one side,
Light on t’other.
The balance is the midway,
And grey.
So much for clarity!


Balance is a funny word;
To think we can is quite absurd.
This tightrope twixt happy or sad
And then, of course, there’s good or bad.
Who is to judge? Us or Them?
Then we fall off the rope again. 

Compassion or hate?
Which one do we rate?
Which scene do we view?
Is the sky grey or blue?

To balance we must see the light in between-
A feather, a snowdrop, a snowflake,
And green;
Green of our hearts,
Green of our lands,
Green of our Gods.
The rope is not tight if we walk in their lands.
The sky is not grey if we hold out our hands,
Opening our eyes to our green and grey land

The rope is not tight if we keep our eyes up;
We’ll only fall off looking down at the muck,
But eyes are for searching and hearts need to feel.
Balance isn’t easy, as we start to keel
Towards more and not less. As our egos oppress
The rope seems to tighten, as our bodies get frightened
Of the heights we might reach without fear.
We have a right to aspire, to reach ever higher
For love, life and wisdom;
Stretching and straining to stay on the rope….. 

The balance is to be found with some time on the ground
Walk high with grace and with hope; but don’t forget
To climb down from the rope-  

To rest with your feet in soft green.