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I think I'd go back to the poetry of Gary Snyder and Wendell Berry to express the magical and marvellous aspect of the natural world which we live in now and then return to. Snyder in his 'Mountains and Rivers Without End' quotes a 11th century Chinese poet...

Clearing the mind and sliding in
To that created space,
a web of waters streaming over rocks
air misty but not raining...

and Wendell Berry

The Peace of Wild Things

When despair grows in me
and I wake in the middle of the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting for their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

moss wrote:
I think I'd go back to the poetry of Gary Snyder and Wendell Berry to express the magical and marvellous aspect of the natural world which we live in now and then return to.
The second poem you quote speaks to me of consolation of those that remain behind, moss.

Reminds me (of the first part at least) of a kundalini raising type of meditation called the Dercad Duthracht. The first part is a calming meditation on the power of still waters and becoming one with the natural world. If you do it long and often enough the calm comes at will even in times of need just by reciting the first line (kind of a bio-feedback self hypnosis thing I guess).

I usually use the following poem by Rachel Anand Taylor:-

THE IMMORTAL HOUR

Still as the Great Waters that lie in the West,
So is my spirit still.
I lay, with folded hands upon my breast,
My will within Thy Will.

Oh Fortune! Idle pedlar! Now pass me by!
Oh Death! Keep far from me! I cannot die!

The passion flowers come lacing o'er the door,
Of my low sill.
As dews their trem'bling sweetness fill,
So do I rest in Thee.

It is mine hour! Unflawed of pain, or sin!
It is mine hour! Let none set foot therein!

Tis laid and steeped in solemn silence now,
Far to outlast
The stormy hearts of poets, when we are gone,
Long, long ages past.