Vasilios Theodorakis – An Online Author

Sister of Wisdom
I noticed that your smile had faded,
Softened in transience amoungst places of New.
And I wondered
Whether life had left your soul giving stance.
But on seeing the candle still flickering,
My heart filled with the Blood
Spilt to the floor,
Freely offered up by our Brothers and Sisters
Through past sacrifice;
And done so, to reinstate clarity
Of Truth, and maintenance of core Tradition.
Only then did I understand
That the road before you and I,
Though potted with holes and obstacles
Is so worthy of travel.
For through the harshness
I am given, to standing in common with Hope,
Still fresh in the faith
That we will be victorious;

Being driven and drawn forward
By the knowing
That we are struggling
For that which is timeless;
While those against us
Are fixating on that which has passed.

Audio Version (Podcast – MP3 / 72sec / 565kb)
Copyright © Vasilios Theodorakis 1993

I have sometimes felt the tangible hand of God
On my shoulder.
Often ignoring the comfort which was offered
I’ve stumbled through the darkness, choosing pain
Instead as my companion
And wondering why my life has been forsaken.

The invitation has always
Been there – the choice to rise beyond the clouds of fatalism
To turn, dive and soar through the structural imposition,
Like the pure hearted crow
Who never allows its own beauty
To be misaligned by the visual perception of blackness.

And like the crow,
We are all descendants
Of the forcibly transplanted.
Continuum of the Body Community
Broken – we have choice to maintain the isolation
Or reconnect – once again to form Church.

I have come close to stepping away forever
And this has scared me.
To follow the face of the spiritually punch drunk
Or the face of the clear hearted… Which will it be?
I must remember my whys, and be still
Until my hows, guide my heart – placing it in God’s Palm.

I long for the Strength
To ensure I pursue this;
Otherwise the evolution of my soul is jeopardised
And this, I know… can easily come to be.

Audio Version (Podcast – MP3 / 95sec / 745kb)
Copyright © Vasilios Theodorakis 1993

There is this portion
Of my heart where forever is held,
Cradled in warmth and compassion.
Reasoning in its most useful form
Cautions without fear,
Breath taken above
All wonder
And known Truth, is just and always felt.

It is there that the breeze is never harrowing,
That the sun’s warmth reaches the marrow
And powers the soul,
In ways known only in times of fables and legends.
Where the nobility fought gallantly without bloodshed.
Where honour knew respect and caring as the bottom line,
And dragons, were demons that we could detect
Not charaded away within the forms of humanity.

Through this corner of my Passion
I see what each really is
And adjust accordingly.
From here I am fed the Fire and the Water,
The Strength that does not end

And filling my connecting force,
My window of clarity and interaction
With the world,
Goes on
Always opening out to my soul and Beyond.

Audio Version (Podcast – MP3 / 77sec / 605kb)
Copyright © Vasilios Theodorakis 1993

Into the light of doubt
Is caste the raising of the sword,
Such that, the darkness of salutes
Is an angle of structure no more.

Its residence then, is not forever.
Each chip it makes, each take,
Though sometimes mortally wounding
May cease its cause through Truth.

We in turn, create the oracle of humanity;
The living dream outside of myth and speculation.
And when the fruit trees bloom
In multitudes across the planet,

We know that the struggle was not in vain;
And that all peoples can smile at their sun
And not risk persecution,
By those who smile at the sand.

Audio Version (Podcast – MP3 / 54sec / 425kb)
Copyright © Vasilios Theodorakis 1992

Coveted with glitter in the manner of mouths
Basted with privilege;
A new invention to save us from the dreaded ‘R’ word – he says.
‘Recession blues – Will, Be, Over!’
Yes, that’s it – amazing how it didn’t come to him sooner.
The three dollars an hour rate,
Huh;
Can you believe it!?
How wonderful, how glorious, how beautifully flavoured.
Its like, – bring back the colonial overtones,
White wash our young with designer labels for convicts.
Ahhh,… mister opposition man
Come on down from your Ferrari Saddle
Scrub dishes for eight hours,
Get 24 dollars, minus tax, in your pocket,
Entitle yourself to the youth dream of graduating to floors.
For of cause, the ‘structure’ will give young people experience,
Open up positions,
Never dead end jobs
Nor sanctioned enslavement like the Commies quote.

We’re going backwards folks,
Just ever, such a little bit…

Audio Version (Podcast – MP3 / 77sec / 605kb)
Copyright © Vasilios Theodorakis 1992

Troubled again is the thought,
And as the tear falls
In the torrent of a single drop,
All is lost before it began;
As though the dignity of existence
Was a Utopian thing in a far distant place,
A place where they knew nothing of humanity
And its struggle to just be.

All this
When one need only
Sun and Sky,
Earth and Wind,
Water
As a soothing friend.
All this,
And more in One:

Sadness, that can’t be felt;
Anger, that can’t be seen;
Happiness, that never frees;
Peace, that can not be…

Audio Version (Podcast – MP3 / 55sec / 433kb)
Copyright © Vasilios Theodorakis 1992

There was a Xmas Tree.
A fir in the european sense;
And a little one – a boy,
Who sat beneath it with a book.
So fond of tales was he – thumb imprinted it spoke.
Opened, he would run through the stories
To where a section was blank.
And often he’d yell into the darkness,
“But why?” – …never to hear a response.

There was a young man.
Alone with no leaves,
But ever so many books — and one,
An isolated spine, which sat quite still
And read so blank in its non-being.
Within this he had a dream
And in it, Saint Nik – a guy with an affectionate fuzzy beard,
Handed him pen and ink
And rumbled, “Write what you will, when you will, as you will.”

There was a person,
Standing at ease below the grandeur of a Moreton Bay Fig,
Holding all Traditions with equal regard and respect;
Remembering the filling up of paper with mind,
While a little girl tugged at a trouser leg
And held out a thought plate
Saying, “I’m done.”
For her, the new young, there was no need to be told
Explore as you will.

For it had come to be – that one was born of freedom
Where chapters could always be written,
And bottling into kegs of fear was only a memory
In a passing youth’s imagination…

Dedication (For Mal McCouat)
Audio Version (Podcast – MP3 / 103sec / 808kb)
Copyright © Vasilios Theodorakis 1992

There is a place
Where the visible meets the invisible;
And there,
Beings stroll upon bridges
Created out of living, flickering star light,
All of which
Deposits itself
Wherever
The life forms choose to walk.

Malamati,
So long we’ve both waited.
You, for a future for our lineage.
Me, for a life.
Tonight both dreams joined,
To bridge the ravine
Turned on by wars and generations of walking dead.
But the light flows again.
I accepted your beckoning
To come,
And you accepted my reciprocation,
And smiled at me.
And as we walked the air
It became real.
A solid link created by souls
Whose history went wrong
And broke the unbreakable.
But Creation remade through two hearts – one past, one present,
And as we parted
You said you’d await my return.
Walking to our new home
I turned and looked back.
Behind, the glorious kingdoms
Of Asia Minor glowed.
In front, the sparkling mist
Of dreams
Waiting to be moulded
Into new realities;
Even greater futures and worlds
Than our Emperors did know.
And there, in this time
Will walk a girl called to brilliance,
Who will be your own.
And her line will continue the nobility
For she will be the first
Princess since yourself.
And what I have guarded for you
May at last be released.

Mentor, my mentor
Our embers burned low,
But look, we finally have futures
And in them,
Immortality and children.
Life in its full
And the Kingdom lives on
Through an unbroken line.
Corrected at last,
By souls who reached out
In the twilight
When the rest thought
We were dead
And the ravine had eaten well.
Throughout the seen and unseen
We clasped hands
And made whole again.
And that’s all that matters.
It is not for their eyes,
It was for us and our descendants.
Others need not know
That we are healed
From their lives.

And so we stand…

Copyright © Vasilios Theodorakis 1991

There’ll be time enough
For hardship,
Adult ridden in decisions of pressure.
Why not,
Let the bright and breath of childhood
Saturate their souls for the while.
All too soon
Toys will be pushed aside
With an absence of laughter.
So why rush the process
Anymore than it must.
Let them speak of imaginings,
Throw fairy-floss,
Dream dreams
As the real things they are.
Let them splash thought scribbles
Fresh upon the story book,
Beside their innocence
And doona ravaged beds.
In time the security lights are extinguished.
So, why the need
To take the flame early?
Is it pay back
For one’s own loss?

Parents turn away,
Professing deafness
At
Such thoughts…

Audio Version (Podcast – MP3 / 61sec / 480kb)
Copyright © Vasilios Theodorakis 1991

Sometimes, the heart swims in warming
Torrents of human good cheer.
So enlightened,
Filled to the brim of overflow,
It gags on a cascading smile – quite
Riddled in the pure delights of now.

Triggered by laughter and lemonade trophies,
The recline in observation is complete;
Diving in, one savours the flavour
Spontaneously scribed between souls.
Heads raised – we glimpse
Good wishes recorded in the chronicles of heaven.

Where scores are kept,
To moor our so’s…

Audio Version (Podcast – MP3 / 49sec / 386kb)
Copyright © Vasilios Theodorakis 1990