The Web Of Infinity

All That Is You

2010-12-06T01:32:00.000-08:00

All That Is You

Sister mine, your heart does weep,

but pity, nay, not even when you sleep,

for your strength is honed in troubled times,

not while you sit to speak in rhymes,

beyond the pain, above the sorrow,

where one day you will perch in all of your tomorrows,

the storm you weathered, which eroded your heart,

will be as nothing in the light of a brand new start,

but until such time when you are set free,

remember most that you are the key,

and never more do you walk alone,

nor my friend, do you have to atone

for others sins and wrongful deeds,

tis not your job to pluck the weeds.

If nothing else you hear in your haste,

remember while your life lays in waste,

that you are loved, oh yes, tis true,

you are loved for all that is you.

Hidden

2010-12-06T01:30:00.001-08:00

Hidden

I am bound by the words,

which I can not say,

I am bound in your arms,

dancing, slow in gentle sway,

One word from your lips,

and I am yours to command,

and from me, offered up willingly,

is all that you demand.

One look from your eyes,

one touch of your hand,

brings me to my knees,

for no more can I stand.

Left breathlessly captivated,

I am enthralled by the sight,

of you standing before me,

offering up passionate delights.

One single moment,

in the space of a life,

hidden from censure,

behind a world full of strife,

Before you I stand,

naked and alone,

while tears stream down

with the wish to atone,

for a single moment stolen,

from time's eternal grace,

where all I perceive,

is the tender love on your face,

and all that I long for,

is you to embrace,

without word or censure,

leaving us in disgrace.

You, a single entity,

that calls to me near,

you, my dearest of friends,

that eternally I hold dear,

for you I will stand,

for you I will be,

all that you need,

as we drift out to sea,

for you alone, today,

your guide I will be,

the gentle hand to lead you,

through all that you see,

for you alone today,

I will be me.

Bound Together

2010-12-04T08:14:00.000-08:00

Bound Together

I have loved you in times gone by,

in lives long past and now forgotten,

where once upon a twilight crescent,

laid before you, all of life's treasures begotten

offered up upon heaven's gleaming altar,

for you alone in gentle sway,

was the heart's truest love devoted,enshrouded,

a single tear drop to end the fray,

of life's chaotic motion,

drowned in voice, ungodly scream,

a gentle hand to guide you forth,

along fate's endlessly eternal stream.

And yet, still now you wander forth,

alone and blind, you can not see,

what stands before you beckoning,

without exception, unconditionally,

infinite love, beyond flesh's delights,

unbound in passion's siren call,

where lustful cravings beat upon the shore,

slowly eroding your internal wall.

But still it waits upon you patiently,

for eyes to open and be blind no more,

and still it calls for you eternally,

to rise above oceans and let yourself soar.

For once upon a time,

perpetuity did decree,

a single moment's awakening,

where in, one day, you will be free.

So hold on, in steadfast stoicism,

for you are not alone, along the pass,

though eyes be closed and heart encaged,

we stand as one in united mass,

hand in hand we walk,

though you do not yet perceive,

we are connected, eternally,

through heaven's gentle weave,

bound together upon a journey

few can truly conceive.

Sister, brother, father, mother,

friend and lover, too,

together we walk in unison,

together, it is me and you.

I Am Me

2010-10-16T08:08:00.000-07:00

I Am Me

I have walked through life

with many faces faceted...

to many masks to account...

some have been strong...

resilient and endearing...

some have been victims....

weak and afraid..

some have been beseeching,

with seduction's siren call,

while others have been nurturing,

full of love and tender compassion.

With many faces

have come many names...

titles by which I have gone...

Empath...Shaman...

Mother...Daughter...

Victim...Hero...

Aggressor....Healer...

Manipulator...Truth sayer...

Seductress...Nun...

Friend...Enemy...

but none of these alone

fits me to perfection..

none of these speaks

to who I am in totality.

They are merely names

to fit the faces faceted...

titles to fit the masks...

I am more than the

sum of my parts,

I am nothing and everything

combined..

I am me...

and that IS enough,

to stand proud about

in the face of a world

which labels a person

in singular terms.

I cry...

I smile...

I laugh..

I hurt...

I get angry...

I get sad..

I get frustrated..

I am me..

whatever that may be

in any given moment. ^_^

The Miracle

2010-09-19T07:17:00.000-07:00

The Miracle

I sit alone in darkness

and all I see is ink stained black

as it swirls and twirls around me

like a shroud upon my back.

Lost in forlorn misery,

all I know right now is pain,

from all of my life's surrenders,

which slowly drive me insane.

Drowning in a torrential downpour

of tears shed for my plight,

in slow motion I am falling,

because I can not breach the night.

And to ease this painful burden,

which weighs forever upon my chest,

a blade of ritual splendor used

to cut away the pain that I must wrest.

Starved and often beaten,

and used by many more,

I huddle in the darkest corner,

as I sit upon an ashen floor.

And in this dark surrender,

as I wait upon my fate,

I cry out for heaven's bounty,

which may come much to late.

For I am lost to men who stand

and walk in the light of day,

and bound to a bleak twilight,

which whispers, "You can not get away."

So here I sit upon a soot covered floor,

withering away, slowly, into a husk,

a forgotten remnant unseen...unnoticed,

as I fade away with the dusk.

There is naught for me unto this world,

but the gentle surrender of eternity's kiss,

where in I lay me down to rest,

in death's embrace of infinite bliss.

So still I wait in quietude,

unmoving from my place,

as time entices me forward

into the land of eternal waste.

But suddenly a light appears,

luminescing upon my grave-cloths,

piercing through the enveloping veil,

of darkness woven of my woes.

It stands before me beckoning,

harkening me back to the living land,

where hope resides in plenty,

within every flesh and mortal hand.

And in abject confusion,

tears stream down from my eyes,

upon the burgeoning realization,

my wishes were not lies.

My prayers, whispered in hopelessness,

in the belief they went unheard,

were suddenly somehow answered,

without hearing a single word.

For there within that light,

was a promise written in stone,

one which transforms the molten heart,

as it whispers, "You are not alone."

And upon that day of surrender,

where I fell endlessly into the night,

a gentle hand taught me to remember,

that hope is ever within my sight,

if I choose to see

and open myself to it's love,

for it comes upon the wings

of the tenderest of eternal doves.

It stands in earnest patience,

as the ocean churns and beats upon the shore,

whether I turn to acknowledge its presence,

alone I am....never more.

The Longing

2010-08-28T07:36:00.000-07:00

The Longing

In the darkness, I could not see

the demon which was clawing at me,

crying out to rise in haste,

while leaving me in mortal waste,

because this thing, I could not let go,

untouched seeds I would not sow.

So instead it came in dreams,

endless halls of running to extremes,

while haunted...chased, I ran in fear,

with screams of terror no one could hear,

for only one could hear my call,

which echoed through the endless halls,

that thing that chased me endlessly,

into a corner where I could not flee.

And there I stood in terror's grip,

letting not a single breath slip,

as it came to stand before,

while I crouched upon the floor.

And to that unknown entity,

I would not raise my eyes to see.

So it took my face in hand,

and raised it high to see the land,

and to my mortal eyes behold,

before me stood a mirror old,

and in it's breadth, there I stood,

no longer concealed beneath a hood,

that left me breathlessly distraught,

running away from all that I am naught,

and instead it stood to wait,

beckoning me to embody my fate,

for there came arms of tender embrace,

bringing finality to the endless race,

that I had run until that time,

where now I stood enshrouded in the sublime.

From the depths of the darkness unknown,

where I came to stand alone,

to face a nightmare demon it seemed,

I found instead myself redeemed.

For what was unseen, I did embrace,

leaving the endless cycle in a state of grace.

Forgiveness In Friendship

2010-08-22T08:08:00.000-07:00

Forgiveness In Friendship

How do you apologize
when simple words cannot equate
to what was said and what was done,
before it was to late,
to halt the lips from speaking,
such heinous words in haste,
holding back the turbulent storm,
of a friendship laid in waste?

How does one say I'm sorry,
when those words are not enough,
to heal a wounded heart,
born out of anger's tempestuous rebuff?

There is no taking back
that single moment in time,
where in a feverish frenzy,
you somehow cross the line,
like a hothead, you brusquely speak,
without thought to what will come,
in the aftermath of battle,
the wounded hearts, that is the sum.

How do you admit guilt
by confessing to your sins,
and asking for forgiveness,
in a setting where no one wins?

Where do you find the strength,
to see the possibility,
of standing before the wounded,
in naught but abject humility,
to offer much more than excuses,
reasons for your words,
things that need to be said,
to ensure that you are heard.

It starts with simple words,
"I am sorry, my dear friend."
and flows from there into the earnest
explanation to the end.
And then there comes forgiveness,
if luck be on your side,
and though it is not forgotten,
your heartfelt words can turn the tide.

Because in deepest friendship,
there is more than just one fight,
more than broken hearts
that can not see the light,
There dwells within that bond,
a special love that can not hide,
even when you have faltered,
and even when you've lied.
And within it's bounds,
there is something truly unique,
forgiveness of a friend,
for all of those who seek.

She Sits Alone In Silence

2010-08-19T14:01:00.000-07:00

She Sits Alone In Silence

She sits alone in silence
with no words upon her lips
starring past the windowpane,
into a world in full eclipse.

She sits alone in silence,
nary a breath, she is so still,
as the world passes around her,
enforcing upon her it's solemn will.

She sits alone in silence,
filled with tears she can not shed,
with eyes of bleak surrender,
and words she has left unsaid.

She sits alone in silence,
unmoving toward another's plight,
for brought to bear, she can not see
what stands before her sight

She sits alone in silence,
for the truth she can not see,
of simple words remembered,
spoken softly, "Help Me!"

She sits alone in silence,
while inside her soul does scream,
crying out for a helping hand,
if only in a dream.

She sits alone in silence,
wondering when this pain will end,
for there is no answer,
except alone, that she must fend.

She sits alone in silence,
with all unseen to common eyes,
wishing for the day,
when someone gentle will help her rise.

She sits alone in silence,
as she contemplates her fate,
where no one sees her troubled heart,
thus demanding her to wait.

She sits alone in silence,
unable to reach out,
to those who might offer love,
in understanding what its all about.

She sits alone in silence,
she is you and she is me,
without a voice to speak in turn,
forgotten is the key.

Knowing Me, Knowing You

2010-07-25T10:24:00.000-07:00

Knowing Me, Knowing You

I have known love, oh so profound,

causing the heart to sing in deepest resound,

while feet stand firmly planted upon the ground,

and the soul is set free, becoming unbound.

I have known joy in holy communion,

where heart and soul meet in jubilant reunion

fortifying the spirit's ethereal constitution

against a bleak world of orderly delusion.

I have known darkness, as I fell from grace,

forced into shame, I willfully hid my face,

so the world could not see my silent disgrace,

as I embarked upon the path of time's eternal race.

I have known sorrow, as it beats against the wall,

morosity so heartrending that it beckons one to fall,

to release the pain in an answering call,

to let go the world, bequeathing it to one and all.

I have known shame in endless refrain,

leaving a blight upon the heart, an infinite stain,

binding the soul in constant restrain

that no human flesh could possibly contain.

I have know peace, like nothing before,

relinquishing the tide to let the spirit soar,

from depths unrealized into it's core,

while here I stand upon a dust covered floor.

I have known me in time's tender repast,

where once I was lost and forlorn, alas,

now I stand tall in celestial cast,

the captain of my ship, as I stand at the mast.

Do you recognize this place that is you,

a place where you feel through everything you do,

from your mother's womb to the time when you are through,

where everything is bright, beautiful and new?

So look to yourself to know what is true,

for you are your guide in all that you do.

You hold the key to all that ensues,

you are the light that lovingly renews.

The Measure Of A Soul's Evolution

2010-07-17T07:06:00.000-07:00

The Measure Of A Soul's Evolution

Upon the darkened wings of sorrows storm,
which cast down shadows heinous in form,
swirls a whirlwind of souls unshorn,
flesh and bone,from whence they were torn,
with voices screaming, and yet, unheard,
lost in a world of the chaotic absurd.

And into this bedlam of mayhem and discord
came a light with arms of rowan wreathed accord
to offer solemn solace to a tempest of despair
and sanctuary's reprieve to those that would dare
to transverse the path in one single stride,
sacrificing the ego and surrendering the pride.

Cascading torrents of anguished avian fluxation,
bound in the mighty grip of anger's consternation,
denied this behest and held back the fray,
abruptly ending the possibility of a jubilant stay
to the bone weary pain and sorrow filled tears
leaving instead naught but sharp jagged fears.

Hell this twas not, nay, look now and see,
the truth that once dwelt deep within me,
beneath the facade of heavenly grace,
below the mask and behind the face,
a single being alone in disgrace
choosing the darkness, a chaos filled place.

But still that light stayed near, with its echoing call,
waiting patiently for a time when I would let go and fall,
to reach out once more its arms of accord,
and slice through the darkness with a heavenly sword.
To offer me blessings of hope through my plight,
and truth, simply sought, through azure sight,
to open the heart in time's gentle refrain,
and wash away the remnants of night's long lasting stain.

See now the measure of a soul's evolution,
even as it fights and casts up in revolution,
for hope's gentle arms stand waiting, ready at hand,
for the time when you fall, to help you to stand,
even when there seems nothing in this realm of delusion,
standing alone, in truth, is naught but illusion.
Have faith, believe, and trust in this fact,
for this truth is given in heavenly pact,
that you are never as alone as you seem,
even when you fight...even when you scream.
All you must do is to turn and to see,
the truth that resides deep within thee.

In A Single Moment

2010-07-17T07:05:00.000-07:00

In A Single Moment

Upon a random plain, within a random time,
two sets of eyes meet, but for a moment,
a single heartbeat thrumming...
What does this stranger's eyes behold,
in gazing upon another soul?
Is it beauty, oh so tempting,
that beckons the quickening heart
into lustful quest?
Or do those mortal eyes behold
the flaws of human living?
Do they see dark circles
of tired eyes longing for reprieve?
Do they see the wrinkles,
proof of a long lived life?

And with the eyes partaking
these sights unto its own,
how will it react in kind,
to what it has come to behold?
Will it look on with empathy,
and share in another's plight?
Will it turn away quickly,
with abject disgust written
plainly across it's face?
Or will it pretend not to see at all,
under the guise of apathy's grace?

In a single moment judgment is rendered,
upon the worth of the other soul,
to stand as equals or to condescend,
to acknowledge or to turn away,
to reach out or to do nothing at all.

What will a stranger's eyes behold,
in the moment when two sets of eyes meet?
In a single moment's time alone,
the mood is set for what is yet to come.

Who Am I?

2010-05-10T07:36:00.001-07:00

Who Am I?

Sitting one day in silent repose,
contemplation at the rise,
she pondered, as she was oft to do,
that which she could not surmise.

A singular question, oh so simple,
yet still the most perplexing question one can ask,
for its query demands in answering,
the truths hidden behind every mask.

Who am I, she wondered,
questioning in reflective uncertainty,
while still a part of her held out hope,
for the advent of an epiphany.

As shadows grew long and moments passed,
deep within the quagmire of this reckoning,
she knew within herself to be true,
that none would come to call in beckoning.

There would be no moments of clarity,
offered up by celestial design,
and this she must accept with sincerity,
for to her it fell, the answers to questions she must find.

In frustration's mighty grip,
she rose up from her place of repose,
and with the simplest of words, "I am me!",
she left the rest to heaven knows.

And in that single statement,
born on anger's back,
came more truth than she realized,
out of the darkness of raven black.

For we are more than what we seem,
even when we see nothing to claim,
for each and every one of us,
is a candle lit with an eternal flame.

Speaking the words said in haste,
simple words of "I am me!",
are themselves in essence,
the beauteous truth of an epiphany.

Nevermore

2010-04-26T07:34:00.000-07:00

Nevermore

Sorrow filled eyes, unseeing,
blindly lost in thought,
groping heedlessly in the void
for what is consigned to oblivion,
and yet, still endlessly sought.

Unseen, neglected, disregarded,
it calls in silent beckoning
to those who are left sightless
to the absolution of its tender reckoning.

It whispers in benevolence abounding,
to the world weary worn heart compounding
in tones of gentle love resounding
its voice speaks in resonance sounding,
"Nevermore!" to its mournful accounting.

But to weeping eyes that do not see
and covered ears that have yet to hear,
still it waits in humble repose,
abiding oh so near,
to the wounded heart
that cries out in vain,
in the hopes of being the salve
to its ever scorching and burning pain,
a single light unto the dark,
a gentle hand of heaven's mark,
to guide the way and illuminate the path,
out of one's own hellish wrath.

So listen well upon the score,
to the raven that cries "Nevermore!",
so that one day too you may open the door,
allowing you finally to rise up and soar.

A Place Beyond

2010-04-23T08:53:00.001-07:00

A Place Beyond

There is a place,
between the space of a heartbeat drumming,
thump thump--
thump thump--
thump thump--
A place beyond fate's infinite reaches
and time's eternal cascade,
where single grains of sand
trickle ever downward, receding,
like an ebbing flow of liquefied crystal,
shimmering.and glistening in the light.
And in this place,
hidden from the view of prying eyes,
where mortals do not dare to tread,
and seraphic beauties of celestial wonderment
are forbidden entrance,
once -
twice -
always and evermore -
there is but one who stands
within its tender embrace.
One,
a multitude of untold score,
united in bountiful grace beyond reckoning.
And it is a place beyond imagining,
beyond perception,
beyond the kin of corporeal and ethereal alike.
It has no name.
It has no substance.
And yet, it encompasses all of creation and beyond,
touching the heart of everything that
was,is, and ever shall be.
Do you dare to tread upon
the path certain uncertainty,
with faith in hand,
to lay to rest that which is preconceived,
that which is assumed,
and that which is known,
for the space of a heartbeat which calls,
thump thump -
thump thump -
thump thump -
for it calls,
it beckons for you to rise up
and welcome its warm embrace.
And for you....
it waits eternally
until the time arrives
when you can 'see' it.

Love ~ Infinite & Unrefined

2010-04-10T09:55:00.001-07:00

Love ~ Infinite & Unrefined

A singular emotion,
engulfing, encircling, enrapturing,
consuming ~
taking the heart from
silent quietude, in peaceful repose,
to fiery inferno's embrace,
with phoenix wings aflame at the helm,
as energy becomes kinetic
pounding down upon the walls of restraint
with willful demands for release, without censure,
and formidable force cascading
into incandescent fireworks of illumination,
clamoring in fervent appeal.

And in the space of a single heartbeat,
one pulsating strike of the drums,
walls recede and fall away,
crumbling into incoherent thoughts,
which swirl around the heart,
like dust upon the wind
never truly touching what beckons forth.

Overwhelming, this solitary emotion
overcomes and overpowers
without might of force,
for its gentle throbbing embraces,
so completely....
so totally....
as to bring angels of seraphic beauty
to their knees,
blinded in reverent tears of celestial bliss
as they stand at the apex of heaven's solemn majesty,
for it is a flood like no other,
which stays the hand of the dark,
with tidal current after tidal current,
wave after glistening wave
of pure unrefined emotion.

In the space of a moment,
it comes calling,
so listen closely,
for it knows no age,
it knows no gender,
it knows no bounds,
It is unconditional and limitless~
Infinite.

The Dawn Unseen

2010-04-10T09:53:00.000-07:00

The Dawn Unseen

It is morning and the sun has shown itself,
gently overtaking the lingering shadows
which cling to the ground and creep along the path,
from the night before.

But still, it is bleakest winter
within the trenches of a hollowed out heart,
for no light shines down upon this face,
and no shimmer of dawn reflects in these eyes,
for the beauty of the morn is marred
and its cascading radiance shorn,
in a cloud of incandescent translucence,
trickling a path of despair,
morose in its melancholy,
down a face, shuttered and forelorned to the world.

And beside this tragic creature,
fragile and frail in figure and frame,
just beyond eyes of sightless wonder,
with vision narrowed to a single point
somewhere out in space,
sits in silent reverence,
a friend of comfort offering up love without behest.

A quiet friend, who does not speak,
offering up words that hold no truth,
nor does this friend offer up so simply
a shoulder to lean on
or a hand of tender support.
This friend sits mute,
unmoved to sight,
letting their mere presence be,
the kindest reminder,
of lonliness's illusionary grip
upon a battle scarred and wounded heart,
to say, with words unspoken, in simple terms,
"You are not alone because I am with you always,
whether you recognize me here or not. I will be here waiting,
for the time to come when you are ready."

And so they sit, together and apart,
upon the sandy shores of dawn's beauteous bequest,
in silence, save the roaring waves
churning a torrent of unuttered remorse,
as shadows recede into the dark,
and the hand of twilight is stayed till another time.

The Battlefield Of Honor

2009-11-23T12:07:00.001-08:00

Blade met blade,
as sword met sword
upon the battlefield of honor
as glinting folded steel clashes
against glistening folded steel
in a battle to the death.
Anger and vengeance surge
from each opponent,
while pulsating strength flows
with perspective triumph
as blood is drawn from
each stoic combatant.
Concentration becomes centered
as focus is forced upon
the swaying movements of the sword
with the singular purpose being
to divine what the combatant's
next move will be,
in order to perry his thrust
or rise to the occasion and
take that moment to attack.
And so, in the end, as one
stands victorious over the other,
leaving naught but the
severed head of his enemy as proof,
cherry blossoms flow by in the breeze
across the blood soaked battlefield grounds
gently touching it, but never meeting it,
to bring peace to the war torn lands
and tranquility to those who walked away
with blood stained hands.
The duty of honor has been fulfilled
and the lost combatant
died an honorable death.

By The Window, She Waits

2009-11-23T12:06:00.001-08:00

She would sit by the window draped
within a perpetually parked wheelchair.
The gloomy room surrounding her
was somber, drab, and gray,
leaving those visitors who would enter in a
dark, melancholy, and almost funereal state.
But even as family and friends trickled in,
forced to transverse the
vacuous and oppressive lackluster room,
in order to visit, upon occasion,
her in her dingy little hovel,
she does not see them,
for she is not cognizant of them,
for her listless eyes are vacant,
and her pallid complected face expressionless.
So even as gentle hands touch hers
in a sweet tentative gesture of love,
her face remains stoic, blank and indifferent,
for she is uncomprehending within
the hollow barren oblivion of her mind,
devoid of emotions, memories, and feelings
of love, passion, remembrance, and friendship.
So there she sits starring blankly out
into the cloudy overcast ocean of sky
as rain trickles streams of water
down the panes of glass,
as though heaven weeps the tears
she can no longer shed,
and the stagnant room around her
slowly becomes her
sepulcher of solemn desolation,
alone.

Until the day, when the beeping stops,
and the drum of the heart beats no more,
and she rises upon infinite wings eternal,
to be carried to a place where
music sounds and love flows forth
and the heavens open up to rejoice the coming,
of a reborn spirit of angelic beauty,
newly made whole,
laying cradled in the resplendence
of the gentle loving arms
of a Goddess Mother, beyond compare.

The Onieric Muse Of Sominal Wisdom

2009-11-23T12:04:00.000-08:00

Upon the darkening road we walk,
in the shaded greenery of evening,
as shadows blossom and bloom
to cover the world in a
blanket of serene slumber
serenaded by the chirping crickets,
the babbling brooks, and an
angel's tender lullaby sung
upon the gentle breeze calling....
calling forth sominal moments
from the telestic unconscious mind
where mysteries are unraveled
and wisdom is bound within
the Oneiric Muse's muted whisperings
to be reborn, to be reawakened
into the thread of divine inspiration
and seen with refined clarity,
in the light of a new day's dawning Sun.

What sophianic thoughts will
find their way from the selenic world
where our spirits walk in slumber's tide,
into the realm of the now,
in the moment of today,
into this singular reality bound in illusion
and entangled in the lattice work of
the Tapestry of Life and the Web of Infinity,
in our nobilary quest to rediscover
the truths which lay veiled
beyond the curtain of our own demise.

What gifts do we bring back to this plain,
as our spirits return from journeys
embarked upon in realms yet unknown to us?
What treasures?
What epiphanies?
Only those who seek to know the truth,
will ever discover them from within.
Seek and you shall find it,
through patience, knowledge and understanding.
And the wisdom of truth will be revealed,
through time's immortal infinite hands.
Seek.

Eve Of Dusk

2009-11-23T12:03:00.000-08:00

It is the eve of dusk as
twilight twinkles a myriad of stars
to tickle the sun into slumber's illuminating bed,
while star formed creatures dance and
and cloud born creations prance
in an eternal struggle for control
over the ethereal apex of
heaven's incandescent sky.
Unnoticed, as they go about their play,
a third seeks control as a breeze blows on its way,
shifting and pushing the clouds in their sway,
sending them hither, and sending them astray,
with cries of anger, they billow on in their flight,
hopelessly lost in their struggling plight
And now with only the glitter of stars to combat,
the wind changes shift to swoosh and to flow,
but the glimmering twinkle stays stationary,
refusing to let go of the black stain of night
that it claims as its gilded home.
And in crushing defeat,
the wind follows the clouds,
relinquishing the realm of regal refinement,
to the victorious twinkle of twilights sprinkle
of glorious stars that abound in the sky,
until time's quicksand drops its last grain,
and the sun returns with the clouds and the rain,
to rule the zenith of heavenly grace,
while slumbering stars dream of the morrow's race.

Twilight Eclipse Of The Celestial Star

2009-11-23T12:02:00.001-08:00

The day is a quiet one, beautiful,
as blue jays chirp happily
in their brightly colored trees
and build their nests in fevered expectation
of growing numbers of progeny,
and hungry felines slowly stalk
their prey in silent hunt,
while drooling in constrained anticipation
of a succulent morsel of flesh within their grasp.
But within a single moment,
all grows eerily quiet
within the domestic setting
of natural harmonic bliss.

The clear azure sky dims
as shadows caress the landscape,
enshrouding it in a cloak of ghostly calm,
and the vibrant solar orb,
slowly becomes overshadowed
within the twilight eclipse of the moon,
staining the unblemished satin sky crimson,
as the heavens weep,
becoming tear-stained with
grotesque smears of ethereal blood.

Darkness encroaches upon the land
as the world holds a collective breath
to await the coming dispersion
of the spectral haze of the solar eclipse.
The breeze is still and silent,
within the tense impregnated moments
of dim scarlet obscurity and stagnation.
And the world lays in impotent constraint,
as slowly, ever so slowly,
the light returns and
the heavens open up into a
deep shade of violet and
blossom once more into
rich flawless sapphire tones.
And as the celestial star of luminary light
shines down once more across the realm,
the world gasps and once more
can take slow even sips of purified air,
uncontaminated and free to
flow upon the random tidal currents
of the breeze's momentary whims.
And life returns to its normal pace.

Spiraling Nexus Of Spiritual Awakening

2009-11-23T12:01:00.002-08:00

A diaphanous breeze beckoning,
sheer and gossamer wind flowing
within a swirling vortex of
purifying atmospheric currents,
like the fluttering of delicate
translucent insect wings
which tickle the flesh and
caress it gently upon the nap.
As, within the inner self,
life-force phantom of essence,
waterspouts of melodious tones
climb to the zenith of transcendence
and whirlpools of serene preeminence
slowly churn in votive supplication,
divinely inspiring the benevolent heart
to open and blossom
upon the ethereal maelstrom
of seraphic, harmonious serenity
which vibrates in duclet congruence
of emotional contentment
and internal quietude,
at the apex of sacred heavenly existence,
preordained within the promise of serendipity,
to rouse the sanctity of angelic consciousness
to walk within the light of
incandescent compassion,
as a glorious illuminating messenger
of transcending tranquility within
the nexus of spiritual awakening.

A World Of Tomorrow's Promise

2009-11-23T12:01:00.001-08:00

A black sphere floats above
the cloudless midday sky,
blocking out the luminescent rays
of the heavenly celestial star,
which hangs upon the
backdrop of noon,
valiantly shining for the benefit
of all who stand within its vicinity.
The darkened orb casts
malignant shadows upon the ground,
forcing the world into a
shroud of haze and confusion.
Suddenly, the sphere shatters,
like a glass bottle thrown to the cement,
into a million pieces of darkness
which fall to Earth in a rain of hail
to embed themselves within
the hearts of every living soul.
And then as suddenly as
the darkness overtook the sun,
light returns to shape the day,
and all go about their business,
while within each lurks the promise
of a seed of darkness blooming
into a blossom of incandescent beauty,
to shape a world of tomorrow's promise
within the divine inspiration of
transcending enlightenment.

A Moment Bound Within Forever

2009-11-23T11:59:00.000-08:00

Awaken to the rising sun,
in all of the glorious radiance of the morn,
and delight within its warm embrace while
standing in the place where the day is born.

Glimpse the tidal currents which
streak billowing clouds across the sky,
and kiss the ocean's supple flesh
like a gentle breeze upon a field of rye.

Luxuriate in the delicate tickle,
of soft emerald blades of grass
and the tender caress of earthen soil
as time halts and does not seem to pass.

Paint a portrait of elements refined,
to burn a memory upon your soul,
of a single moment of peaceful surrender
and the serenity that it does truly extol.

For this time will never come again,
as it flows within the distant past,
as a single moment of beauty remembered,
a moment bound within forever, always to last.

When Death Comes Courting

2009-11-23T11:58:00.002-08:00

When Death comes courting, what do you say?
'I'm sorry Mr. Reaper, but not today?
I have to wash my hair,
and dry it with utmost care.
But please do come again tomorrow,
and I will ease your weary sorrow.'

And what if Death comes calling, once more?
What do you say to him as you stare at him through your door?
'I'm sorry Mr. Reaper, but I simply haven't the time,
I must wash my tub for it is full of grime.
Then I must wash and fold my cloths,
and then I must water my flowers in rows and rows.
So come again tomorrow and we shall sit for a spell.
And I promise you then, you will feel well.'

And what do you say, when he comes again,
and wishes to speak to you about the death of men?
'I'm sorry Mr. Reaper, but you can not stay,
for I wish to live and enjoy the day.
I can not be your shoulder to weep on,
so take your scythe and please be gone.'

And what if Death comes again,
but not to court or call you friend?
What if he comes in scorn, at last,
to take you with him into his cast?
What do you say, when you have reaped what you have sewn,
causing your own death to force you to atone?
Do you weep with regret for what might have been,
if you had simply opened the door to a sorrow filled friend?
Or do you heap blame upon him alone,
wishing it were he who stood in shadow and stone?

So remember next when Death comes to call,
to open the door and let down your wall,
and share through empathy his sorrow and pain,
so you are assured in today, that you will remain.

The Open Door To A Silent World

2009-11-23T11:58:00.001-08:00

A door creaks open, slowly, with no fingertips to cajole it forward, nor the hint of a breeze to coax its progress. Its weight upon its hinges forces it to cry out in protest, until finally, it reaches its desired destination, against a blank wall of stark contrast to the stained grainy panels of the door. The world is silent, as a shadow is cast long upon the threshold of the door. But there is no one there. The world has stilled in its pleasure seeking, and frozen in its stifling mundane. Leaves, which at that moment, were careening toward the ground, in one final assault, are halted midstream, to curl and twirl no more upon the glaze of zephyr streams. Rivers which babble happily and whisper sweet nothings to the breeze, pause in the cessation of now frozen ripples cresting and riverbeds twirling in jubilant dance. Birds, which but a moment ago, chirped gaily a trill and warbling song, now silent in their feather beds, with nary a tweet nor a tune upon their stoic beaks to rejoice the morn. Children's play and gayest laughter, falling into torpid state, where feet in motion, stand stationary, unable to crunch the newly fallen autumn leaves, and once smiling faces with rosy cheeks, are petrified and immobile. The sun is locked within its gate, penned beyond its mighty glare. So to the gentle moon awaits, beneath a blanket of light, for a time, which will never come, to shed away the remnants of the day, and rise upon a bed of midnight silk, in all of its stately glory. And as the shadow flows across the threshold of the door frame, it dissipates and dissolves into the ether of immortal time. And for the world at large, now frozen and subdued, life begins to sparkle anew, as the pleasure seeking and stifling mundane resume, for but a single moment has past, within the span of time eternal, as a single soul transverses the gate between the living and the dead, to embark upon a wondrously mysterious journey, of the unknown which lays ahead.

Foundation Of A Promise

2009-11-23T11:56:00.001-08:00

Stand not upon the backs
of angels promises,
for they will fall to dust,
and turn to ash.
Steel yourself not
with the pledges of others,
dearest friends though
they may be,
for the foundations
upon which you built,
steadied by the hands
of friends united,
shall crumble into rubble,
and turn to ash.
Build instead first
upon the truth of yourself,
self respect,
self reliance,
self esteem,
self confidence,
and self worth.
For once you have discovered
the truth bound within your heart,
and come to accept it as gospel,
you will find,
not the bitter taste of ash
in your mouth,
filling your nostrils
and burning your lungs.
Instead you shall find,
sweet succulent nectar's caress,
as you stand upon
your own two feet
to build a foundation
of indestructible strength.
And when you stand upon
the foundation you have built,
you will discover that
you no longer need to be carried,
that you need no
promises of dust,
or pledges of rubble,
for you are complete,
assured in your own self worth.
And others will draw closer to you,
all the more for your own
foundation of promise.

Winged Spector Of A Twilight Goddess

2009-11-23T11:51:00.001-08:00

Darkness rises upon the wings of twilight,
as dusk settles the fiery god of day light
into his transcending bed of cosmic slumber,
while angels weep diamond tears of star dust
across the heavenly zenith of silken black.
Shadows seep across the blazing landscape,
drenching new budding life in the shroud
of sominal quietude's serene embrace,
while churning clouds of charren gray
creep across the stainless ink of the night sky
setting it awash within the gently flowing
tidal currents of a stormy maelstrom,
born from the ethereal specter of a twilight goddess,
who basks within the enchanted void of dark expanse
and sheds her celestial robes asunder,
to stroke the land in her liquid caress
of vibrant blessing and illuminating renewal.
And as dreams flow into daylight twinkle
briskly rising above the haze of night,
the sun god stands to retake
his ascending throne of incandescent rays,
and reign, with tender smile upon his face,
as he gazes upon his earthly realm renewed,
and glimpses the hand of his beloved bride,
as it slips back into the nestling warmth
of her blackened cocoon of cosmic slumber,
to be reborn anew once more,
within the gentle encirclement of twilight time.

Ancient Celestial Fires Which Burn Eternal

2009-11-23T11:50:00.002-08:00

Tis a day like no other,
from sand laden distant shores and
high atop snow encrusted mountain peeks,
as ancient celestial fires burn eternal,
casting a warm glow unto the heavens
and cascading shadows down upon the earth
And from within the ever blossoming cosmic flame,
she rises upon gossamer wings
drenched in glittering golden sunlight,
to shimmer atop the backdrop of azure blue satin sky.
She is reborn anew out of a chrysalis inferno,
to reclaim the infinite horizon
bound within the ebony embrace of lunar twilight.
And with her inevitable ascension
to her gilded throne of enchanted solar wonderment,
she beckons to one and all,
with divinely wrought inspiration,
to rise from slumbers gentle caress,
and meet, with joyous abandon,
the coming of a new day's dawn.

Dark Lady Of The Moonlight Fair

2009-11-23T11:50:00.001-08:00

Dark maiden immortal,
dark lady fair,
of comely beauty and celestial starlit hair,
looming up out of the encroaching night,
to sashay forth upon strawberry glazed moonlight,
to twirl and to dance,
to sway and to prance,
where shadows collide with shafts of glistening light,
upon a craggy barren moonscape of sheer delight.
An illuminating spirit, the breath of life,
a harbinger of death, and the sorrows of strife,
refined in effulgence and sumptuous splendor
to tantalize and inspire in succulent grandeur.
A delicate jewel of intimate intrigue,
a haloed angel of sublime deed,
gently gliding forth upon a glittering array
of gilded kaleidoscopes bound in Eden's miraculous way.
She hovers upon the sparkle of moonbeam tinsel,
as she raises her voice in the song of the ancient minstrel
to call forth kindred of enchanted moonlight fair,
calling to moon drenched fairies and moon kissed pixies
pirouetting through the air,
to share in her wonder and joyous elation,
to frolic and cavort in her playland of lunar illumination.
As solar orb becomes moonstruck in rhapsodizing twilight eclipse,
and joining the dance are tiny moonshine imps,
harmony and balance are restored to the fray,
as enchanted ethereal creatures go about their play,
enshrouded within the tapestry of the supernal flux of the mind,
bound within the dreamscape of heavenly paradise enshrined.

A Gift Of The Fey: A Samhain Tribute

2009-11-23T11:49:00.001-08:00

Down inside the hidden grove,
upon the mossy green,
just beyond the misty vale,
Samhain night sets an eerie scene,
of blazing torches and bonfires burning,
to alight a path upon the ground,
while moonbeams fall in gentle sloping
and banshees moan and circle round.

The first bewitching specter
to rise up from betwixt the shade
is an amber flame aflutter,
a fiery fairy of summer made,
dressed in saffron, turquoise, and ginger,
with rosy cheeks and ardent face,
rising above the ash and cinder,
she is passion's blaze which has come to this place.

The second enchanting figure
to fly out of the haze,
while gentle breezes speak in whisper,
a buoyant rainbow pixie soars into the maze,
dressed in blue, pink, green and white,
with golden ringlets and azure sight,
she is the sublime ethereal zephyr,
with ancient blessings yet to offer.

Rising out of loch reflection,
a tempest sprite of introspection,
surges forth into the fray,
third to settle into her stay.
Dressed in olive, aqua, and sand,
with billowing wings of silken dew,
she is the force of rebirth's hand,
gifted with the power to renew.

Fourth and final to come is she,
a woodland elf of great stature be,
stepping out of timber's shadow,
to enter into the haunted meadow.
She trudges forth in earthen brown,
while her earth worn boots make not a sound.
She is the force which stalks the night,
until she emerges triumphant in the firelight.

And there they meet upon the knoll,
ancient entities of mythology's extol,
to cavort and conjure in Samhain's cast,
incantations buried deep within the past,
spells and blessings to renew the land,
rising up from each creature's hand,
to alight the moon in kaleidoscope wonder,
and beckon the clouds once cast asunder,
and harken forth upon a new dawning sun,
the promise of which has already begun,
rebirth, regrowth, and renewal reinstated
and to the land of winter, spring is now fated.

So remember well this Samhain night,
as you blow out the candles and turn out the light,
for there you will find the hidden path that you seek,
as a gift of the fey and a gift of the meek.

Maiden Of The Hidden Vale

2009-11-23T11:48:00.002-08:00

She stood upon the craggy ground,
amidst the dew and sprites at play,
down within the hidden vale,
safe among her fairy fey.

And there she stood in stoic wonder,
a statuesque maiden amongst the wee,
a beauty of brilliant radiance,
an enchanting jewel of sylphic majesty.

With moonlit tresses of golden hue,
falling gently to her dainty feet,
and eyes of azure splendor beholding
the panorama where earth and sky meet.

Blessed with wings of gossamer silk,
laced with threads of amber dew
which stretch across the landscape specter,
into a horizon darkening to midnight blue.

She is cloaked in a mist of angel's tears,
a gentle haze of weeping white,
which bears the tale of sadness born,
of seeing her ethereal sight.

She stands quiet in her secret vale,
safe amongst her fairy fey,
awaiting the time that is yet to come,
a return to the hidden way,
so that she my step into the glow,
and dance within the sun lit day,
and share with her beloved friends,
the call of heaven's gentle sway.

Minstral Of Men's Desires

2009-11-23T11:48:00.001-08:00

There is a lithe and sylphic beauty,
unknown to mortal men,
who languishes in languid repose,
along the sea shore's line,
Her dulcet songs of sorrow and desire,
her siren call of old,
cast a spell across the sea,
for when her lilting voice
rises in seductive tune,
no man bound unto the sea,
is beyond her ethereal reach,
nor beyond her transcending touch.
For within her vast territorial expanse,
she is the minstrel of men's desires.
Hear her call,
hear her plea,
and come to her defense,
and she will offer up in blessing
ripened fruits and nectars wild,
to the souls that are in her command.
A lady of enchantment,
mistress of the tides,
she is a siren of the moon,
come to distract and deceive
your lust filled eyes.

Autumn Leaves Aflame

2009-11-23T11:47:00.002-08:00

The autumn leaves are changing,
to hues of red, orange and gold,
while the smell of woodbine lingers,
strong and deliciously bold.

The autumn leaves are falling,
into a state of dormant deterioration,
as they fall to pieces and await,
in the constant flux of disintegration.

And as they lie fallow, forsaken,
in a fossilized state of dilapidation,
upon a barren land of perdition,
born of ruinous desolation.

They recede and decay in
melancholy prostration,
as they await their fate,
of complete destruction.

When suddenly in random abandon,
an ember of trepidation,
lays amongst the abandoned,
resounding in its cry of sullen desperation.

As it ebbs adrift upon the flow
of solitary separation,
and seeks the forlorn fallen,
to reach the mantle of revitalization.

And bursts into flames
of inferno's ruination,
and bear down upon despondency,
in the form of annihilation.

The promise of the blaze,
of brimstone and deprecation,
cast down upon the land,
that of eclipse and obscuration.

The fires burn deep,
without any form of control,
leaving in its wake a barren land
bound to a sorrow filled toll.

Promise Me The Wind

2009-11-23T11:47:00.001-08:00

Do not promise me the wind,
unless you can capture the gossamer breeze
as it flows through your hands.
Do not promise me the moon,
unless you can snatch it from its divine cradle
and offer it up upon a silver platter
drenched in moonbeams..
Do not promise me heaven,
unless you can stand upon the mount of Olympus,
as king of heaven's sublime domain.
Do not promise me tomorrow,
for tomorrow may never come.
Promise me not the world,
promise me not today.
Only....give your solemn vow
and promise me....the moment of now.
For one moment, an eternity,
is gift enough for me,
to know that your heart beats
in unison with mine.
Promise me one moment in time,
where you are mine, and no other,
living but a heartbeat for me alone,
breathing in the sultry evening air for me alone,
and seeing only me,
between the space of a second.
Promise me, my love,
and that will be enough.
For in the space of a single moment,
I will know the wind's gentle caress,
glory in the soft glow of moonbeams,
and stand upon the zenith of Heaven,
by your side.
And none of those shall compare
to a momentary truth found next to you.

Upon A Winter Solstice Moon

2009-11-23T11:46:00.001-08:00

An ancient woodland of Caledonian descent,
with groves of trees bathed in the divine incandescent -
Ash, Aspen, Birch and Alder,
Holly, Yew, Hazel, and Juniper,
Rowan, Willow, Hawthorn, and Elder,
bedecked in stars and shiny ornament,
wreathed in winter moonbeam adornment,
to celebrate upon a Winter Solstice,
the passing of the season's gentle kiss,
and draw back the sun from time immortal,
a cult of the glen-folk stepping through the portal,
while spirits of nature, divine minstrants of old,
gingerly await fate's rebirth to unfold,
to be reborn upon choruses of pagan decree,
and rise once more in vigour, vibrant and free,
through supplicatory invocation,
and elemental incantation,
a reclamation of nature abounding,
to the tender song of Mother Earth resounding.

So upon this Winter Solstice Moon,
which will come in a time, oh so soon,
through grove and glen, and loch and dale,
across the ancient wooded vale,
listen well for the chorus cry,
which takes up wing and starts to fly,
across a reality born of the external,
to bring back the ancient ways of the eternal.

Ember Embrace Of Innocence

2009-11-23T11:45:00.002-08:00

A beloved dream once held secure,
nestled within a gentle heart, oh so pure,
of childish hopes and silly things,
stirring the imagination as it take up wings,
rising in flight upon a cloud of pixie dust,
to reach the heavens upon a strong windy gust.

Ethereal,
Imperial,
Essentially divine,
Mythical,
Magical,
in eternal design.

Dissolving away upon a stone altar,
as youth recedes and begins to falter,
begetting a mind of truth, logic and reason,
to bring forth the heart of a life in new season,
older, wiser, and pure no more,
lacking the ability to rise upon wings and soar.

Grounded in deepest introspection,
seeking the dream of purest reflection,
of simpler times and innocent things,
when magic and mystery inspired the heart to sing.

And within the ashes, upon an altar laid bare,
sewn deep within the heart of blackened soot with care,
burns brightly the embers of a dream once held dear,
simmering with hope to ebb away the fear.

And from ashes to embers, and embers to flame,
youthful inspiration bursts forth, wild and untamed,
to push back the veil upon the veins of the heart,
and return to innocence, the place where we all start.

So seek those dreams once lost and forlorn,
to fill up the hole in the heart that is torn,
between truthful logic and innocence's face,
to lay nestled warmly in ember's embrace.

You Called Me Back

2009-11-23T11:45:00.001-08:00

In times gone by,
you called me back,
from tempest shores of sinking sand.
With Rowan wreathed hands outstretched
you brought me back,
from the shadowlands
of tepid pools and shallow graves,
where darkness churns into its depths.
And where I stood for an eternity, it seemed,
hallow and silent.
Until your haunting whisper called,
drawing me back,
into the light,
where you stand in gleaming wonder.

You called me back,
and for you,
my thanks ~
for doing what no other could do,
for being my saving grace.

The Dusky Horizon

2009-11-23T11:44:00.003-08:00

He stands at the crossroads,
in a single moment of decision,
turning his head left to see
a smooth, well worn path
which has been tread upon
many times before.

He turns his head to the right
only to behold a treacherous road,
littered with obstacle and boundary alike,
overgrown with the weeds
of struggle and strife.

He turns his face ahead,
to face the straight on path,
and there he sees,
in his moment of decision,
the way he must journey forward.
For there, directly in front of him,
stands the dusky horizon,
where heaven touches earth,
and the two intertwine into one.

He smiles,
and with one last glance
to where he had come from,
he rises upon wings
of feathery silken white,
and flies forward
to meet the dusk,
to meet the horizon,
to meet his future.

Captivation Of A Dream

2009-11-23T11:44:00.001-08:00

You have captivated me,
in silent dreams,
your whisper,
your call,
leave me,
and I am restless,
laying beneath a coverlet of silk,
abandoned,
left to succumb,
to the succulent torment
of a translucent dream
of sublime anguish.

Your eyes behold me,
enfolding me in their wrath,
a warmth so tender,
a touch so gentle,
an embrace so sweet,
imprisoned in your arms,
an agony of heaven's fury,
and I am set aflame,
awash in your eyes,
for they hold me captive,
a prisoner of your heart.
Such delicious pain,
nestled within you.

But when I awake,
and the dream is done,
flying away upon the
wings of my consciousness,
I feel empty, once more,
restless with wanting,
for something,
I can not recall,
for someone,
I can not see,
for a forbidden dream,
I can not touch.

Portal Of The Transcending Heart

2009-11-23T11:43:00.001-08:00

Deep within the heart,
there is a door which
can be unlocked unto a world
of awakening enlightenment.
But who holds the key to that door?
Who can unlock what has been bound,
for so very long?
Is it a soul mate?
Is it a friend?
Or is it you?
Could it be that you hold the key,
to opening a portal to
heaven's illuminating essence,
beyond which any single person
could offer up with a golden key?
You alone can guide your heart,
to the place where the soul
shall rise upon wings
of incandescent light,
and soar beyond the
celestial apex of the horizon.
It must come from within you, alone,
as a seed of transformation
planted and nurtured,
to blossom into a heart array
of pure perfection bound
within a shell of beautiful
imperfection and illusion.
And only through your journey of life,
will it strengthen and grow,
into the soul of enlightenment,
which you have always been.
Only then will find the door unbarred,
and the way clear for you to tread upon.
Only then,
and by your hand alone,
will you awaken,
to what you have been all along.
Only then.

Ride The Wind

2009-11-23T11:42:00.001-08:00

Ride the wind,
upon gentle wings,
beautiful feathers of billowy white,
which flutter from behind,
as a mark of transformation,
allowing the one to transcend,
above the mist and clouds,
into the incandescent rays
of eternity's encirclement.

Ride the moon tide,
upon churning waves,
which sprinkle and purify
in a cascade of sacred salt,
so that the one may rise
up to the ocean's level,
and reach beyond the horizon's mark,
to touch the iridescent twinkle
of starlight wonderment.

Embrace tomorrow's rise,
as the dawn of what is yet to come,
a journey which begins
a moment from now,
of things which lay in wait
for the one's singular touch,
a future conceived upon yesterday's dreams,
born in today's lessons of understanding,
raised within the fortitude of time,
strengthened by the will of resolve,
and finally,
coming to fruition,
upon the boundlessness of the morrow,
a dream of enchantment,
the odyssey of a dream.

Come Walk With Me

2009-11-23T11:41:00.002-08:00

Come walk with me upon fertile ground,
filled with blooming flowers,
and the scents of heavenly spring,
with trees as shade,
to cool and refresh,
and mask the glare of the blazing sun.

Come walk with me by waters edge,
where liquid finite calls you to play,
splashing around in jubilant laughter,
a heartfelt smile of contentment upon your lips.

In this place of dreams together,
there need not be sorrow nor pain,
nor any other worry to tarnish its light.
So instead, my dearest friend,
come walk with me and let us play.

Angel's Farewell

2009-11-23T11:41:00.001-08:00

She stood upon the rocky precipice,
seraphic wings spread wide at the ready,
peering down into the fathomless chasm,
in the hopes of catching a
single glimpse of her prey.
She had laid in wait,
ever patient and ever cautious,
for an eternity it seemed,
until finally she caught sight of him.
In the great expanse of distance
which laid between them,
she could hear the distant echo of his laugh,
tingling a faded song of joy,
for her ears alone to partake of.
And with a smile of knowing satisfaction,
she rose upon her angelic wings,
and began to soar upward,
in order to meet the horizon,
and all of the celestial wonders,
which lay just beyond the imagination.

Immortal Beloved

2009-11-23T11:40:00.002-08:00

My dearest immortal beloved,
with you I have walked secure,
through the thresholds of time,
of pain and of doubt,
with love's celestial design
woven into my heart
and braided throughout my soul,
for you are the single incandescent twilight beauty,
which stands before me upon the apex of heaven,
calling me back to you, evermore,
through the eternal tapestry of fate's decree,
as your friend,
your lover,
your kindred,
your twin flame.
A call which has brought us forth into today,
before the boundlessness of heaven
and the heart of Mother Earth,
to forever more intertwine
our lives,
our hearts,
and our souls into one.
Reach with me, my most cherished beloved,
and we will touch the stars together at twilight,
as you once did for me
to beckon my heart forth,
for truly,
within the infinite expanse of this plain and beyond,
I love you, eternally.

Upon This Night

2009-11-23T11:40:00.001-08:00

Come to me upon this night,
within a moment time has forgotten,
to alight my path upon a road
filled with the stillness of the
night's encroaching shadows,
a place which lays beyond
the gentle drumming of
a single heartbeat held secure,
a place where the twinkle of stars
dance in an endless shimmering cascade.

Come to me upon this night,
where there is nothing beyond
the sway of your heart and mine, intertwined.
Encircle me into your arms,
enrapture me in your embrace,
as you weave my very essence into your soul,
for there you are bound within mine,
and I am captivated,
thrown into a world which
lays just beyond the threshold,
of time's outstretching tendrils.

Come to me upon this night,
and bathe within the serene waters
of a single moment
born within my eyes,
even if only upon the
rising tides of a dream,
and lead me in a dance
of splendid enchantment
wrapped within your arms' tender embrace,
for here, in this place,
I belong to no other but you.

It Is Enough

2009-10-12T22:11:00.000-07:00

I have walked across shattered lands,
scattered, littered
with shards of glass
beckoning the feet to tread upon them.

I have walked in desolate shadowlands
coated in ash and drenched in despair
once, twice, forever
I return to this place, again and again.

People call out its name,
chaos, oblivion, the abyss ~
but for me it is a land teeming with life,
of those who are lost,
of those who are wounded,
of those who are broken.

And when I hear the beckoning call say,
why do you return to such a war torn place,
where the people are lost,
and the people are wounded,
and the people are broken?
I know within myself the answer to its query,
for it shines like a beacon within the darkness
guiding my journey and illuminating my path.

I can be nothing more than I am,
and I am no more than I can be,
and offer all that is within me
to any who cry out in need.

If it is enough to lift the veil
upon another's brow,
to scatter the darkness
and illuminate their eyes,
then I am content.

If all that I am
is not enough to raise them
above the darkness they
drown themselves in,
then I am also content
that I have tried,
even in the face of failure.

I know no shame
for word and deed
that I have offered up to the world,
for I am no more than I can be
and nothing more than I am.
And that is enough,
even in the eyes of failure,
even in the eyes of betrayal,
even in the eyes of prejudice,
and even in the eyes of abuse.
It is enough.

I do not weep for what I am not.
I do not mourn for what I can not be.
For what I am now,
in the singular moment of now,
I am complete in my totality,
and it is enough.

And never do I walk alone,
for there beside me,
always,
to stand at my side and guide my hand,
is me,
and it is enough.

And in the face of
oblivion,
chaos,
and the abyss,
it is enough,

Never truly do I walk alone,
whether I step back into the darkness
to reach a hand out to a wayward soul,
or walk on into the light of the unknown
to experience an unfathomable journey,
for it is enough.

In all things,
in all times,
in all places,
it is enough.

The Bitter Mirror

2009-07-17T14:55:00.000-07:00

Gaze no more into the bitter glass,
for eternity beckons as the time does pass,
where long ago visions echo and haunt,
and voices engraved upon the shattered heart,
belittle and taunt.

Dwell no more on realities past,
for the celestine future is infinite and vast,
where you walk into choices unbound,
and your footsteps tread upon memory's ground.

Learn from today and yesteryear gone,
and raise your voice high in futures resounding song,
for the future, today, and things that echo in recognition stark,
are the lessons you bear to light the way through the dark.

So dwell not upon the mirror that frames so complete
the totality of you where past and present meet,
and look to the stars in heavenly expanse,
for the future is limitless in one single glance.

Where you are complete, single, and whole,
and memories are naught but virtues to extol,
the journey you walked and the path that you tread,
of a life lived well and happy instead.

Dark Spell Invoked

2009-04-19T14:56:00.000-07:00

Dark Spell Invoked

Out of the pages of chapters past
came the words of a spell to cast,
to call upon spirit and bring it forth,
from four directions: east, west, south, north.
but what was called was not divine
and from below the horizon it crossed the line.
Evil in spirit, it came to me,
to extract the price for setting it free.
It took from me my shielding veil
and cast my sight beyond the pale,
stripping me bare of ignorant bliss
and that is how I have come to this,
to walk my path with boundaries broken
while offering up myself as token,
to unknown truths and places unseen
on which I have been granted the ability to lean.
My veil is gone and dark evil is bound,
captured again beneath the ground,
and from this spell I cast in youth,
I take with me always the strength of truth.
And from lessons I have come to be,
a witch to be reckoned with, for I am set free.
And so ends the tale of how it begun,
the chapters are finished and
the book is done.

Walk of the Mother Goddess

2009-04-19T14:54:00.002-07:00

Walk of the Mother Goddess

She walks in shadow,
unseen by human sight.
Her gifts, as she lay
hidden beneath the veil
that shrouds they eyes
and blankets the mind,
dwell within the sphere of a
wondrous world of human delights.

She walks in dreams,
in scapes of human illusion,
where she is cast in roles of
mortal woman and divine incarnate.
And through eyes of flesh and bone,
she is mother, virgin, sister, and harlot.

She walks with wings
upon heaven bound sand
flowing in unison to mirror
her image,
her steps,
and her path.
Immortal goddess of angelic beauty
whose serene purity transcends
the human mind and
encompasses all things.
She is the muse of inspiration
for whom we all aspire to,
and from whom we draw
our divine potential.

She walks in spirit,
bringing endless rapture
to the core of the heart,
and tranquility to the human soul.
She is that which you seek without name
in times of deepest sorrow.

She walks around us
as the eternal reminder.
She walks within us through
the daily mundane and strife.
She walks at our side,
bearing the weight of our burdens
and holding us close to her heart.
She walks and life exists for
your pleasure and your grief.

She walks in glory personified, resonating.
She walks and she reigns,
in the infinite moment beyond
the annals of human time and space.
The Immortal One,
The Ethereal one,
The Mother Goddess.

Slumber's Glorious Journey Of Senses

2009-04-19T14:54:00.001-07:00

Slumber's Glorious Journey Of Senses

Close your eyes.

Listen,
hear the thrumming,
the beating of your drumming heartbeat.

Feel,
as it carries you away upon silken threads
and lays you bare in velvet moss
to sail upon the amber boat of time
with satin sails billowing in the wind
and chenille veils to cloak your naked form.

Smell,
the scent of every flower and every herb,
mingling, to shape the very air you breath
into ambrosia nectar that
sates the pallet and quenches the thirst.

Taste,
the thrill of anticipation as you soar
upon a sea of mischievous clouds
that rise up in subtle form
to harken you back and
tempt you with a siren's song
calling you home.

See,
heaven's paradise stretch out before you,
as you stare into oceans of blue,
as the sky embraces you,
cradling you gently, until finally,
your eyes close and you fall into
a sweet, silent slumber.

The Noble Nobody

2009-04-19T14:53:00.000-07:00

The Noble Nobody

She walked in the shdows
that others had cast behind them,
but she did not mourn for the light
that refused to shine upon her,
for she did not choose to aspire to
the heights that others strived for
and she did not desire the
material riches that others dreamed of.
Those things that seemed to motivate others,
were instead, merely a means
to an end for such as she,
for she sought other things,
monumental things,
that most could not conceive of.
She sought knowledge in its purest form
and the freedom that comes when
the mind expands beyond its own boundaries.
She was not bound by the limitations
of her own world, for in truth,
by their very existence she was set free.

She was a nobody who was
overlooked and disregarded
within the scope of society.
She did not aspire to greatness,
nor did she hold unreasonable expectations
of the world falling to worship at her feet.
The loving support that she
quietly offered did not gain her
fame and recognition,
nor did it garner her awards.
And she did none of this for payment.
She gave of herself freely
from within the shadows.
The people she helped were transient,
and her friendships with them fleeting,
but still she was there when
no one remembered her name.
She is the Noble Nobody,
the Silent Angel,
and the Unsung Hero
of a world that did not want her
and a society that scorned her.

Author's Notes: I've met a number of people like this, who give without consideration of themselves, unconditionally and totally. They are angels in hiding. One such as this, saved my life in my greatest time of need and sorrow. Blessings walk with those upon this path.

Dawn's Delights

2009-04-19T14:52:00.001-07:00

Dawn's Delights

I stand before the morning's dawn,
to watch the rising sun's ascent,
with dew laden grass and
the remnants of stars as my
boon companions and my silent confidants,
as I gaze in awe at the
sky's transition from night into day,
from darkness to light.
And in those all to few and brief moments,
when the crickets are quiet
and the birds are in slumber,
I stand in silent reverence
in honor of the morning rays
and to pay homage for
the grace of a new day.
I am cleansed, renewed, and reborn
with the shedding of the
cloak of shadows that enshrouds the night,
and the coming promise of the
radiant dawn's glorious delights.
I am enraptured,
and I am made whole once more.

The Pagan Story Of You?

2009-04-19T14:50:00.000-07:00

The Pagan Story Of You?

In your childhood was there
one moment of pure clarity
when the religious walls of your fathers
fell away and all that you had accepted
as truth without question
made absolutely no sense anymore?
And did this leave you confused,
adrift, and alone?

In your adolescence, when you
began to search in earnest
for knowledge and sought expression
of your ever evolving beliefs system,
did you suddenly find yourself
shunned for your differences,
misunderstood because of stereotypes,
and branded with the scarlett letter,
'W' for witch,
that proclaimed you a heretic and outcast?
And did you slowly feel yourself
drifting away from your family ties
that bound you in conformity?
Was there abuse hidden somwhere
within the scope of your past
that further propelled you
along your chosen course?

As you grew and your faith
developed beyond rebellion,
did your family demand repentence
for unconditional love?
Did they bind you in the
chains of shame and guilt
as they cast you to the brimstone?
And were you left scared, desolate, and alone?

If this is your story, then you should
surely know that it is mine, as well.
We, each of us, feel at odds with the world,
disconnected and held at arms length.
We are all searching for solace
as best we can, in a world that
cannot embrace our respective
individual truths. But the truth
that is hidden even from us,
each other, ourselves,
is that our pain is not unique and
we are not alone in our struggle to survive.
Through adversity there truly is strength.
And with that realization, hand and hand,
we will see tomorrow dawn
in the light of a new Pagan Sun.

Author's Notes: I reiterate this in alot of my poetry, that we are not alone on this journey because alot of Pagans feel so disconnected that they forget that theirs is not a unique situation. We are all floating in the same boat, looking in different directions. Communities like Witchvox make that issue much more prevalent, but also allow us to share our experiences with one another so that we can realize that we are not alone. Places like this make the prospect of seeing another day's dawn a little brighter.

So I will say it again. Please realize that you do not walk alone in this world. We walk with you. You are loved. You are special. And you are worthy of hope.

The Purgatory You Smell

2009-04-19T14:49:00.000-07:00

The Purgatory You Smell

Imagine Purgatory,
you know you've been there,
when you were standing in
a crowded elevator that stopped
at every floor of a 30 story building
and you were forced to listen to the
dreaded elevator music for more than
the span of a minute of your life, to long.
And perhaps someone chose that exact
moment to let a silent but deadly one loose
within the confines of that small enclosure.
So there you stood with all of those bodies
pressed close against you,
unable to breath anything but the stench
no one would ever claim as their own
and all were to polite to say anything about it.
Time seemed to stand still all at once,
ticking by so slowly that you wanted to scream,
but you didn't.

And so you, like all of the rest,
suffer in silence the sweaty bodies,
stench, and cheezy music
from within the confines of Purgatory,
dying a slow and painful death until finally
the doors open and fresh air flows in,
and you think, 'The stink is over!'
So you depart, swearing to yourself
never to take an elevator again.
The stairs have become
your new and best friend.

Where Have All Of The Lions Gone?

2009-04-19T14:48:00.000-07:00

Where Have All Of The Lions Gone?

Where have all of the lions gone
that have stood watch over our
great nation's shores?
When did they leave our arms
to stand and fight on foreign ground,
to bear the brand of soldier
and carry with them the burdens of man?

What fears must they face to
stand their ground in courage
and meet their own mortality
in order to defend their family's freedoms?
What frightful images must they endure
of the atrocities they encounter in war,
when the time of setting pain aside is over
and the fighting is done?

How many friends and commrades
will they mourn when they return home
to a world that is now strangely
foreign to them?
Who will offer solace
when their pain is inconsolable?

Who will tend the wounds of those
who fought for freedom's cry,
when the physical injuries have healed
and what remains, the hidden scars,
lay beneath the skin within
the human heart,
festering and unseen?

Who will calm the lions roar,
as tears stream down their faces,
and who will meet the raging currents
which flow from the sorrows of war?

Author's Notes: War takes its toll on everyone, including the people at home, the conquered peoples, and the soldiers asked to follow orders without question. Who will be there when they return home, from a tour in hell? This is written to honor those who fight and those who care for the victims of war in the aftermath of battle, wives, nurses, doctors, mothers, fathers, etc. Blessings walk with you on your rocky path.

Student of the Teaching Goddess

2009-04-19T14:47:00.000-07:00

Student of the Teaching Goddess

She came to me in troubled youth
and guided me toward her light
but still I could not bask in grace
or feel her love divine.
I stood alone, a sorrowful soul,
blinded by the haze of painand
with laden heart I took the pills
to end my burdened life.
I was cast adrift in sorrow's
depths with no reprieve,
no sanctuary in which to rest my head.
I reached the threshold and
bargained at Death's gate,
but she would not set me free,
for the many truths I had yet to learn.
She held me in her arms,
a sanctuary I could not see,
for always I had been there
and always her divine hand
had guided me. And when
my spirit finally fell and
collapsed at the cliff's rock bottom,
she was there, standing over me,
with loving arms stretched out,
pulling me up to stand,
and in that moment she showed me,
my path and the rocky road
upon which I must tread.
And though my path
is painful at times
and sorrow filled within,
I stand and walk
beside her in grace
with but one desire,
to offer a bit of hope
to those still blinded
to the potential of their
own grace of fate.
She walks with me in shadowlands,
that I cast in my world alone,
and now I walk within her circle,
a student, she willingly teaches
with love eternal.

The Differences of Being Pagan

2009-04-19T14:46:00.000-07:00

The Differences of Being Pagan

Sometimes I feel like
I don't belong in this place
and the world seems
so foreign to me.
I do not understand, at times,
nor do I fit into the scheme
of this fast paced society
where competition is so prevalent
and achievement is that bar upon
which we are judged worthy.
For you see, I am different.
I do not have a place in which
I can belong as nothing
more than myself.
I am little understood
because I lack society's
drive to compete and
I am without awards
for my numerous accomplishments.
In the eyes of the
culture in which I live,
I lack drive.
I lack motivation.
And I am seen as complacent.

But the truth is far different
than how I am perceived.
I am a healer, a witch, and a shaman.
And from my first
tentative steps in this world,
I have been guided by
the grace of the Mother Goddess.
I am a seeker of knowledge.
And my path, so far removed
from others turbulent journeys,
has encompassed every
aspect of my being.
I am a Pagan.
I am a historian and a
preserver of the ancient ways.
My passion lies in the past,
in understanding the lessons
of truth that were so
hard to learn then.
I am a servant of She
and I am a keeper of
her ancient and sacred ways.

I Am Beautiful In Every Way

2009-04-19T14:44:00.000-07:00

I Am Beautiful In Every Way

My heart is filled with love for you,
but I will not rise and fall
by your words alone.
For though you can not see,
I stand in the light of day and
and in truth, I know
I am strong,
I am wise,
and I am beautiful in every way.
I am divine,
I am redeemed,
and I am deserving of love
for all of my days.

And though I hold you still, my love,
close beside me in my heart,
I will not walk in your wake,
and be the shadow you want me to be.
For I can stand on my own,
treading beside you or walking alone
for in truth, my love, I know
I am strong,
I am wise,
and I am beautiful in every way.
I am divine,
and I am redeemed,
and I am deserving of love
for all of my days.

And I can rise without you there
to meet tomorrow's dawn,
for in truth, beloved, I know
I am strong and divine,
and I am beautiful in every way.
And I am courageous enough
to meet the new day,
with or without your love.

Author's Notes: Love is an absolutely beautiful and engrossing emotion. At times though it can blind us to a truth which we all need to hear, especially when that love becomes unhealthy. Sometimes we need to wake up and realize that there is life beyond a bruised and battered love. And that we are still beautiful and divine despite of this bitter sweet love, not tainted or used because of it.. We are worthy of that promise of hope through a new life of independence. Brightest Blessings be with you all on your journey!

Just Beyond the Hurricane's Eye

2009-04-19T14:43:00.002-07:00

Just Beyond the Hurricane's Eye

To dream of love, enduring, unending
and feel the passion flow
like waves of turbulent water
simmering just beyond the
eye of a hurricane,
one must release and relinquish all
misconceptions,
judgments,
presumptions,
and inhibitions
at the threshold of paradise
in order to cross the path
of heavenly perfection
and step into the vortex of eternal chaos
where one has not conscious thoughts or control.
It is the place where one simply feels
the terrifying tremendous onslaught
of pleasure and pain mingled into a
single pounding, soul wrenching pulse
which shocks the heart
and befuddles the mind.
And in this dreamy mist covered state
one can see the gates of heaven open up
with one single touch of the hand.
One can see the unperceived,
and imagine that which is unconceived
within the safety and warmth
of a gentle lover's embrace.

Author's Notes: Love is a turbulent emotion, as is passion. Its a roller coaster ride of ups and downs, and the nausea that sometimes follows. But a single moment of pure love, is worth more in this lifetime than an eternity of self awareness and solitude.

The Ripples of Infinity's Web

2009-04-19T14:43:00.001-07:00

The Ripples of Infinity's Web

I stand upon the web of infinity,
dazed by the ripple effect each person's
current has upon others lives.
The world in its translucent state
is interwoven and interconnected
like the fine silken threads that weave the tapestry.
Its completion is like that of a
vast ocean encompassing time and eternity.
And its currents and tidal shifts take in
all of those things that impact the world
for the good of all and the destruction
of its innate potential.

This realm of reality is not our own.
We are merely visitors,
and even sometimes prisoners,
bound to this place of rational illusion
for a short while by the physical essence
that weaves this world into being.
An unending web of finely spun thread
woven into an ocean of untapped potential
waiting to be discovered by those
bold enough to reach out
and rise to the challenge.

The Journey of Pagan Reconstruction

2009-04-19T14:41:00.000-07:00

The Journey of Pagan Reconstruction

Who are you and what do you believe in?
Are you a Pagan, a Heathen, a Witch?
Are you grounded in a myriad of beliefs
mingled together from a plethora of
ancient religions, cultures, and histories?
Do you believe in a Universal Goddess,
Maiden, Mother, Crone?

What defines the road we walk
and the path we take
on the journey to Pagan Reconstruction?
What was Paganism before
that it must be reconstructed in the now,
in order for it to work in a modern
industrialized society such as ours?

Is it a interweaving of simple truths
taken from an ancient world
which relied on magic, ritual and deity,
instead of machine, industry and science?
And in this modern era,
are not these mingled truths, sought
by those strong enough to search
beyond what is blindly taught as faith,
incorporating science and technology
into its very web of consciousness,
in order to communicate and be heard,
to learn and expand one's understanding,
to teach and to share knowledge,
and to broaden the horizons of the mind
through community, words,
and varied beliefs and faith?

The reconstruction of paganism
in a modern day era,
is a wondrous flux from the past,
rewoven into a sustainable
belief system for today,
and an enriching journey into tomorrow.

And as you walk down that path,
a seeker of knowledge,
a student of truth,
an individual with the strength
to face and transverse
the road of dual realities,
you will find the truth within
and reach heights most can not imagine,
awakening your latent potential,
your higher self,
and find an enlightenment
which courses through human history,
and adapts with the times,
in order to bring balance and harmony
to the natural world of Mother Earth
and human technological world of tomorrow.

Author's Notes: Paganism is something, that upon being discovered, is a wonderous world of freedom never experienced by most. It opens doors to ideas and understanding that would have previously been unattainable due in part to religious restrictions, superstition, and stereotyping. Only here, within the confines of our community, are we encouraged to explore, question, and expand our understanding of the world around us and the unknown that lays beyond the veil of this reality. Anywhere else, these kinds of things would be discouraged and suppressed. Realize the wonderous miracle we have each been gifted with, through compromise, compassion, tolerance and the growth of understanding. It is a rare thing in this world, and only here, as we take the journey of Pagan Reconstruction do we discover the true possibilities of our latent potential and the true heights that this world can soar too. Imagine and it is possible.

A Eulogy For Fallen Pagan Soldiers

2009-04-19T14:39:00.000-07:00

A Eulogy For Fallen Pagan Soldiers

Men and women
from all walks of life
come together, in unity,
to stand and march
before us in battle,
to guard and protect
our freedoms and our homes.

And from these bright lights
of honor and of duty,
our brethren stand on equal ground,
for together they fight,
together they live,
and together they die.

And as they enter the Summerland,
as their comrades enter Heaven,
they are honored for their
vigilance and bravery,
and their willingness
to sacrifice and to defend,
with a mark of their faith
placed upon their tombs.
So that in death, too,
our fallen brethren
stand and walk on equal ground,
even as they turn from
the light of this world,
and depart from the loved ones.

And like knights of old,
may they walk into the light
of eternal and perpetual love
bound within the heart of the Goddess.

Author's Notes: This is just my own personal attempt to commemorate those of our brethren who have gone to war, who have fought and who have died. For today is a glorious day, because they have approved the pentacle to be placed on military soldier's tombstones. Blessed Be!

The Call of the Pagan Wild

2009-04-19T14:38:00.000-07:00

The Call of the Pagan Wild

There is a time in every pagan's life
where we sit behind a desk,
be it in school or at work,
and we feel as though we do not belong,
do not belong in the desk,
do not belong in the room,
and do not belong in a mundane existance,
for we are Pagans.

We are Pagans,
which makes us different and unique.
We walk with one foot
firmly planted in this world,
and another rooted,
like those of a rowan tree,
in a natural nature filled Earth
where spirits dwell,
and fairies dance,
and magic shimmers all around us.
It is a place where we come
to commune with spirit guides
for lessons and truth,
and see the unknown realities
beyond those of the waking world.

We feel as though we do not belong,
for ours is a world of duality,
one mundane and
one of ethereal beauty
where we know a kind of freedom
that can be discovered no where else.
We see beyond society's boundaries,
that which was erected
to keep our kind in check,
and those that cross those borders at bay.

And as we sit at our desks,
looking around at our peers,
we wonder how
anyone could walk around so blind,
day to day,
for our eyes now see without blinders.
And we see what others do not.
And it is in those singular moments,
that we are faced with the
biding truth of our differences,
when we feel, down to our soul,
hear, above the roar of society,
and answer the call of the Pagan Wild.

Invocation of Divine Incarnates

2009-04-19T14:36:00.002-07:00

Invocation of Divine Incarnates

Ancient Gods of Egypt's past,
come thee forth and grand this humble woman's cast.
I call to thee, by name to each,
open thy arms and stretch thy reach:
Ra, Anubis, Set, Osiris,
Hathor, Neith, Nephthys, Isis

Ancient Deities of Greece unfold,
come thee forth from lands of old.
I call to thee, by name to each,
open thy arms and stretch thy reach:
Hera, Zues, Hades, Athena,
Posiden, Eros, Aries, Selena

Polothiestic Hebrew Divine,
ancient forces, male and female, intertwined.
I call to thee, by name to each,
open thy arms and stretch thy reach:
El, Yahweh, Asherah
Lilitu, Shakinah, Chokmah

Great Goddess spirits I call thee forth,
from west and east and south and north.
I call to thee, by name to each,
open thy arms and stretch thy reach:
Inanna, Astarte, Hecate, Morrigan,
Diana, Brigid, Ishta,r SpiderWoman,
Gaea, Aphrodit,e Selkhet, Guan Yin,
Tara, Pele, Mary, Cerridwen

I call upon thee, ancient spirits of old,
and summon thee forth from places untold.
I invoke thee each by thy sacred name
to come to me in my circle framed
Hede my words and hear my plea,
come thee forth, so mote it be.

My Grandfather Remembered: A Memorial

2009-04-19T14:36:00.001-07:00

My Grandfather Remembered: A Memorial

I remember his well,
his strength and his love
guiding my hand and shielding my heart.
He stood as my mentor
and my guide through life.
He loved and encouraged me
to seek out my dreams
and he never condemned me
for making mistakes.
And he taught me to
set my own limits
and study and learn
to achieve my goals.
He was the light of my life.
He is my Grandfather,
and my friend, with love eternal.

I remember his bright light
and his gift for story telling.
I remember him by the warmth
of his words and the strength of his presence.
And I remember his humility and fear
right before he died.
But what I remember most
was the overwhelming,
almost unbearable desire,
to reach out and touch him,
to assure him he had nothing to fear
and to assure myself that he
had truly graced my life
with the gift of his presence.

I am sure now that he
always walks with me in spirit.
I am sure that he knows that
his legacy of strength
walks on in me and my children,
and his memory lives on eternally.

Family Beyond Blood

2009-04-19T14:35:00.000-07:00

Family Beyond Blood

The family that we are born to
is not our own and though we
remain blood bonded to them in this life
they do not truly know us or
share our lives and our plights.
Like acquaintances we meet that we share
only a small portion of ourselves with,
our family sees only the maskes
we choose to wear for their benefit.

Then there are those who we bond with immediately,
those that in a moment have known us for a millennium.
These are select few know us intimately
for they are the kindred of our spirits
and the soulmates of our hearts.
They are the foundation upon which we stand
and the supports that we build our lives around.

But what of those of us who are unfortunate
enough to have neither on which to lean?
They are the mountain in a sea of sand,
steady and unsinkable.
They are the river rock that is tumbled
and shifted by the currents
and still never shatters.
They are indeed the mountain,
and the rock,
and the water currents, as well,
for theirs is the well spring of strength that leads,
and theirs is the spirit of fortitude
we all seek to emulate.

Who is your family when
you take you your first steps into rebellion?
Who is your mother, your comfort,
when you sacrifice your virginity
on the altar of someone else's lust?
Who is your father when you turn away
from the painted face of a human God?
Who holds you when tears flood from your eyes
because love has shattered your heart
like an empty glass bottle thrown into the trash?

Who is your family?
Where are they now?
Who gives you unconditional love, if not them?
Who is your family when
life's burdens are to great to bear alone?/

Drowning in the Shadowland

2009-04-19T14:33:00.000-07:00

Drowning in the Shadowland

I walk in shadow, hidden from the light of day and
I bear the burden of other's pain and it consumes me.
I am drowning in the murky depths of the Shadowland
and I am lost in its dark currents.
Where is there sanctuary from the crashing waves
that rush to press down ever harder on my spirit essence
stealing my breath and severing any
lifeline of hope that touches me?
Where is there solace upon which I can
rest my weary form and weep away the pain?

The Gods cast their nets,
in search of nectar and ambrosia,
down into the dark abyss and find only me,
barren and exposed to their wrath without censure.
Darkness abounds as I huddle alone in my prison.
The storm rages, churning the silence and solitude
that vibrate through my solitary cell.
I am drowning in the shadowland
where silent screams are unheard
and beauty has no form, no shape.
I am bound, chained, and entangled,
in the web of my own dark heart.

My options are few and my choices unclear,
but still I will not let go of this world, of this pain,
of this burden that sinks me deeper into the quicksand
that is so prevalent in my life.
I will not end my battle, defeated and crushed,
only to suffer it again on the morrow.
I will carry this weight that has no form,
and I will survive.
And as I drown in the shadowlands
I will find light in its depths and
life beneath its murky currents.
And I will live to see tomorrow's dawn
rise anew in all its glory.

The Shadows of Society

2009-04-19T14:31:00.002-07:00

The Shadows of Society

It is dark beneath the shadow moon
as she walks the streets, alone in her plight.
She is no more than a wisp of smoke
to those who ass her by, unnoticed
and uncared for, she is forgotten.

Her face is covered in spots of caked on dirt
and her eyes are glazed and empty as
her silent pleas for help go unheard.
A single tear smears the dirt as
it traces a path down her cheek
and falls onto the tattered rags
she wears to survive the elements.

She stares through windows
into a world of sheltered security
that she will never have,
that she will never be a part of,
and she can do nothing more than
stand in her confusion,
lost in the world of the past
when she walked among the living of society.
But always reality is brought back to her
for she is shunned for being unable to
live up to the expectations of society and
she is disregarded as nothing more
than a burden upon society.

And she wonders where
she will sleep tonight
and if she will live to see another day
of hunger and loneliness.
Yesterday she was a
wife and mother, with a home and job,
but today, well, today
she is a forgotten nothing,
and always a shadow of society.

Recesses of the Void

2009-04-19T14:31:00.001-07:00

Recesses of the Void

I dreamed of oblivion that encircled me
in the blinding arms of darkness,
devoid of light,
it swirls and dances around me
as it ebbs ever closer to
drawing me into its central core,
on single infinite point of nothing.
There were no dreams within its folds,
no pain or sadness, much less,
love joyously rendered and
soaring heights of passion.
It was devoid of all that we
shroud ourselves in
to create order out of chaos.
And there I stood in neither
heaven nor hell,
and in the blistering silence,
I stood alone. And yet,
there I stood encircled by a
multitude of spirit minds that
lay just beyond the shadowy darkness.
There they were laid to rest, unseen,
bound to the recesses of the void.
In my dream there were the souls
still clinging to the mortal world
of flesh and bone.
In need of resolution ,
they haunted the places where their
mortal frame had tread before,
unable to process their own demise
and unwilling to let go.
There in the darkness,
I reached for them to offer comfort,
only to be drawn back into
this waking reality of
the tangible and the symbolic.
And I have done nothing
more than dream of their
sad eternal existence.

Aqua Terra

2009-04-19T14:30:00.000-07:00

Aqua Terra

The world is drowning in an ocean flood
tainted by black liquid gold of man's dependence.
Ever more bodies float to the surface
as family and friends are cast to
the torrents without discrimination.
And the powers of man watch
in muted horror with their
hand stilled by their own helplessness.
The flow of water cannot be altered.
It rages forth bringing distruction in its wake,
crushing the arrogance of man,
who thought to subdue and control its forces.
Its currents flow beyond thought,
beyond reason,
beyond instinct,
hearing only the cries of horror
from its victims as its chaos engulfs
entire lifetimes, generations upon generations.
of love, remorse, regret, joy and pain.
All of it exists no more save in a memory.
Traditions and cultures, the uniqueness
of the peoples and the lands alike,
washed away with the tides.
There can be no turning back, no return,
to the shell of security that once was.
It is gone.
All gone upon the winds of prayers
crying out to the heavens for sanctuary
And the world lays still and silent
beneath the ever churning depths
of an ocean's wrath.
And the promise of tomorrow lays
cold in the arms of the
fortunate few who yet endure.
The world is drowning,
and the world looks suddenly very bleak.
Earth Mother's sustaining power
will prevail as victor, and
all else will cease tro matter in the end.
Natures course now envelopes
the suffering man and tomorrow
stands as a barren monument
to those lost in the heart of a tragedy,
beyond comprehension.
The world is drowning and
there is no reprieve.

Beyond Perspective Duality

2009-04-19T14:29:00.000-07:00

Beyond Perspective Duality

Dare to conceptualize, imagine and envision
that which lies beyond human duality.
Open and willingly perceive that which
stands beyond the veil of physical limitation.
Stand on the threshold of the beginning,
middle and end and see beyond
and what lies there in.

Accept that there is only now,
and that in the 'now',
the past and present and future
reside as well.
Glimpse the intangible and unfathomable
that human perception has deemed as
deity in order to bring order to chaos
and to answer questions without
any possibility of real answers.

Look beyond the deifying of one's own species,
and see with the eyes of your true self,
and touch, perhaps just for one moment,
that single solitary thing we all strive to reach for.
Beyond the people.
Beyond the earth and sun.
Beyond solar systems, galaxies, and universes.
Beyond the duality of black and white,
good and evil,
truth and lie,
and man and woman.
Seek it and you shall find it
dwelling within yourself.
It is as close as a heart beat.
It is as gentle as a caress.
And it is much more true and real
than anything else you will ever
perceive or imagine
in the span of your life.
It is there at birth and
stays with you beyond death.
We are all a part of it
and it a part of us.
It is beyond explanation,
and beyond definition.
It simply is and
it is simply divine.

Anguished Cries, Anguished Dreams

2009-04-19T14:28:00.000-07:00

Anguished Cries, Anguished Dreams

Dark dreams encroach upon my slumbering form,
calling forth the raging storm
of things I fear and things I abhor
to chase me down the cold stone floor,
to haunt my dreams and cast them deep
within the darkness form wence I sleep.
I scream and wail as they come for me,
the forms of those I wish not to see.
And though they petrify and freeze my mind,
and hold me hostage as in turn they bind,
then hold me down to slacken their lust.
My spirit is true and dreamland is just,
so when they sate their lust in turn,
by vengeance each I cast them to burn.
But still I lay in anguished cries
for the dream of rape that told no lies.
And though I could not stop my fate,
In dreams, at least, I can close the gate
on sorrow's past and blinding fear,
for which I have shed one thousand tears.

The Journey of One: From Rebellion to Truth

2009-04-19T14:27:00.001-07:00

The Journey of One: From Rebellion to Truth

She stands on the event horizon
gazing solemnly at her world
as it ebbs slowly into the constraints
of a swirling vortex from which
her vividly imaginative mind incarnated.

She swaddled herself in discarded clothing
that embraced the provocative,
the taboos, the alternative, and the individual.
She paints herself unnatural in colors
that clash like tital waves against the cliffs.
Clad in boots of war and emblems of mystery,
the image she gazes at in the mirror
is that of defiant individual,
one against an army of
the droll and the mundane.

She dreams of nature and pagan faith,
where witches dance their rites and
cast their circles in open coven community.
She reads and studies to learn
the path forbidden to her
by her parents religion,
and she prays to the Gods and Goddesses
for acceptance somewhere and
for a friendly face to share the journey.

And then one day,
somewhere in her twenties,
she awakens to the fact that
she is a woman grown.
And she is a Witch of greater faith
than she ever imagined was possible.
Time has altered her perception and her age,
but it could not take away
who she had chosen to become.
Her life's journey began in rebellion,
but continues in the truth of
her transcending spirit and
her ever expanding mind.

Heavenly Mists of Home

2009-04-19T14:26:00.000-07:00

Heavenly Mists of Home

The darkness was wrapped in heavenly mist
that swaddled the night like a
babe in the arms of its mother's love.
The descending cloud swirled
and spiraled in uncertain fate
as fairies danced upon
the glistening dew laden ground
and angels looked on
in awestruck rapture.
Heaven's gates were spread wide
to welcome homeward bound spirits from
their long journey's travel and
embracing them with the
love of peace divine.
'Welcome home, gentle spirit, '
It seemed to say, 'and lay your
bountiful burdens to rest.'
And there they entered,
free of the physical.
There they came to enter
their infinite, eternal home.

Solstice Dance: A Gift of Beltaine

2009-04-19T14:25:00.000-07:00

Solstice Dance: A Gift of Beltaine

Tis the night when bonfires burn
and they gather to dance as they may.
The rhythm and beat of the drums as they cast,
thrums harder and faster
as heart beats race and bodies perspire,
faces masked to cloak those they know
and unseen from the dark they dance in procession,
the Lord and his Lady,
our Goddess and God,
dance forth,
recreating creation,
enacting the savage dance older than time.
Lips to lips,
flesh to flesh,
heart beat to heart beat,
each thrumming in time with the other.
Friction and heat,
flushed bodies entwined,
the building of pleasure
exploding into the birth of our world,
all in time with the beat of the drums,
the frenzied dancing of intoxicated bodies,
and bonfires burn to cinder and ash.
With creation complete and
bodies united, all collapse
where they fall, to sleep until daybreak,
and the new dawning sun,
when all will rise and
go about their daily lives.

Author's Notes: I've said it before, and I will say it again. There is somethng mysterious and intriguing.....intoxicating about the rites of fertility that occur during the spring. There is an unattainable freedom that can be touched in that moment, which is unseen in our daily lives. ^ _ ^

Coven of the Heart

2009-04-19T14:16:00.002-07:00

Coven of the Heart

I dream of splendor in blissful rest,
calm and serene in heavenly quest,
seeking tranquility in illusion unbound
and peaceful surrender to the silence of sound.
No glimmering globes of light overhead,
no shimmering orbs with the sun in its bed.
The infinite ethereal darkening dreamscape
collapses in on itself, foretelling its fate.
The land turns to muck and ash covers the ground
and the dried husks of trees encircle me round,
enclosing me in a ring of the ancients
where the wind howls as though losing its patience.
And then as the world still, they come in procession,
cloaked in their robes they stand at attention.
And from within the circle of trees that enclose,
they encircle me and cast off my cloths.
Skyclad I stand, bare to the world,
thrust into the circle, my secrets are hurled.
'See the true me', I say to them all,
'Cast not your judgment for I will not fall'.
In silence they commune with spirits of old,
debating the theory of drawing me into their fold.
A fire burst forth from a hearth long left bare,
illuminating my flesh and the secrets that they share.
And into that moment I am cast adrift in a storm,
For their faces, now lit, show me the truth,
that all of them, each, are stages of my youth.
Each one stands as a half forgotten remnant,
and individual aspect long ago fragmented.
And in that moment I implore them to come
and join me, instead, to see what we become.
And as each single fragment is incorporated within
flooding back memories of good and of sin,
interconnected and rewoven whole,
the tapestry is complete within the body of my soul.
The pain of remembrance, though scary at first,
bring me the completion of a journey's long thirst.
The flames and the darkness disappear with the morn,
and I awaken in splendor to savor with relish,
my life now reborn.

A Reality of Illusion

2009-04-19T14:16:00.001-07:00

A Reality of Illusion

I have heard it asked by many,
who were seeking still and longing
for the missing piece that would
fill the void each feels in their hearts.
'Who am I? What is this illusive thing
I yearn for to fulfill my potential?'

Some, in desperation, seek out love
as a steadfast crutch only
to find themselves later disappointed
when neither their partner nor ther feelings
live up to their expectations.

Others fill their lives with vice,
wallowing in the material, with such things as
drugs, alcohol, sex, or gambling.
And on the road of luck
and the physical pleasure of the now,
they walk blindly to their own destruction.

But what we each, as individuals,
fail to see and comprehend is
that we each came into this world whole.
And that even in our darkest moments,
when we are laid bare by all
of our mounting sorrow,
still we are complete and whole.
It is the emptiness, the sorrow,
and the tragedies of this world
that are the illusions
for which we bind ourselves to.

We, each of us, are born of spirit,
and from the depths of the end of our days,
we return to spirit form.
And from birth to death
we are all unique in our completion
and bound together in our struggle for understanding
through that cycle of life.
No matter the burden you bear,
the sorrow you feel,
the darkness you walk in,
or the lessons and trials you must
suffer, survive, and learn from,
you are complete.
You are whole.
And you never truly walk alone.

And then I have heard in response,
'How can one be whole and complete
when pain that binds our hearts
is so very real? It is not illusion,
it is reality, and you speak nonsense.'
But if it is the pain that binds us,
then it surely blinds us to the truth, as well.
It is the truth of our own divine completion
that has been with us all along,
but so blatant was it,
that we failed to notice it
for one reason or another.
Personal sorrow, social pressure
and obligations, religious teachings.
It is only when we look beyond
the self absorption of our own perspective world
that ultimately we see the truth that was there all along,
patiently waiting for our notice.
And it is with the acceptance of truth that
the world changes before our eyes
and the life of yesterday becomes
the miracle of tomorrow.

Author's Notes: This is simply a personal perspective view of the world. It was not written to offend or insult anyone, merely to put my thoughts out into the ether of the internet.

The Truth About Love

2009-04-19T14:14:00.000-07:00

The Truth About Love

Love at its beginning
is fantasy and untouched desire.
It is the longing and hope
of what the future will bring.
Love in its infancy is
nothing more than a dream.
Love that burns with intensity and flame
capturing the eye and holding tight to desire.
But when the candle lays smoldering
and the flame turns to embers and ash,
all that remains is the
central core of truest love.
This love moves beyond all of the dramatics.
it is a work in progress,
constantly growing and evolving.
This love is traumatic,
searingly painful at times.
It is the conscious choosing of
two individuals daily
to share themselves with one another.
It is triumph and victory
and failure combined.
The weeping and crying
and heaven intertwined.
It is work that is hard
and frustrating at times.
It is recognizing the temptation
and turning a blind eye.
It is the greatest of commitments
and blending of two souls.
The recognizing at its end
the gifts that you hold.
Love is a choice, like any other in life,
to commit or to stand alone,
neither wrong or right.
Love encompasses all of this
and much more than mere words.
Its truth, put quite simply,
you must work for what you earn.

Whispers of Sorrow Unheard

2009-04-19T14:12:00.000-07:00

Whispers of Sorrow Unheard

I close my eyes and I see it still.
I am there, breathing the air
filled with my brethren,
burdened and branded by
a six pointed gold star of our faith.
The air is heavy and clouded with their ash,
the land itself coated in their sorrow left unspoken.
But no mournful cries ring out for those gone on.
Instead, there is only the silence broken
by the slow procession of shuffling feet
and the ever constant stench of decaying flesh.
The crack of the whip,
the hollow sound of a gun fired,
and the barking of dogs as cruel as their masters.
So many faces,
a sea of forgotten names,
lost dreams of hope and unfullfilled potential
locked away in an oven
and incinerated as trash.
At times, in those rare moments of clarity,
I listened to the prayers whispered in the dark,
prayers to an unhearing God,
prayers for salvation,
prayers for loved ones,
who I had laid in the fires
and seen cast to the wind,
Prayers always left unanswered.
I die each day anew
along with those cast to the flames.
I die each day again and again
with each soulless corpse
I carry away from the living.
I cannot see beyond the flames,
but I know, with the certainty of my own mortality,
that this is hell.
And with this certainty,
I will never forget.
I close my eyes and I am there.
I open my eyes again, and
the echos of the past haunt me.
No, I will never forget.

Author's Notes: In concentration camps all over eastern Europe there were men selected to carry the corpses of the dead away from the living. They were also forced to place these bodies in the crematoriums, to be burned to ash. This is written from the perspective of one such man.

Goddesses Of Eating Disorders

2009-04-19T14:10:00.000-07:00

Goddesses Of Eating Disorders

This tale is told by a weaver who sits in a hut full of fibers and threads, some brightly colored and others dark. And within this hut the weaver's hands spin tales of ancient heros, mythic beasts, enchanted lands, and tragic events that encompass the world over, for she weaves the web that is the tapestry of life. Listen as she weaves the story of one poor soul within her loom, whose tragedy touches us all.

There was once a child with eyes as blue as the sea and a unique beauty all her own. But as clear and as vivid as her eyes shown, they were also blinded to the real shape of truth. For as she grew and blossomed into womanhood, she was captivated by the beautiful images her world projected on her. And so this young woman desired more than anything else in the world to capture that illusive beauty and keep it as her own. So she pushed herself further and harder with each passing day, but she never seemed to come closer to her desire, for it remained always just out of her reach. She was so enwrapped in the image of what she thought she should be that she began to believe that others saw the same distorted image of what she saw in the mirror, someone unworthy of love because she was fat and ugly.

And after dieting and exercising until she was weak with exhaustion and hunger, she turned away from her family and friends wit the decision to stop eating altogether.

And with the advent rise of a new pseudo-pagan movement of worshiping the Goddesses of Eatting Disorders, Mia (Bolemia) and Ana (Anorexia) , she found support for her line of reasoning and her distorted views. She would pray to them, as her peers had taught, 'Please make me thin and beautiful.' And she would smile knowingly and laugh secretly with her new found friends, as they all spoke of how they dated Ed (eating disorder) .

Before she knew it and without her seeing even then, she was a walking skeleton living in a waking nightmare. She walked close to death, without even realizing she was in any danger, because in her mind she was still not thin when she gazed into the mirror. And so, when death came to claim her soul, she wore an expression of surprise on her face, as she finally realized the truth.

Watch as the weaver's hands point to the end of the thread she holds as she snips it from the loom. Another thread to short in length and another story to short in duration. And as it is woven into the tapestry and the weaver moves onto another thread, the story is finished long before it should have ended. And yet, sadly, it is done.

Author's Notes: My prayers go out to anyone who suffers from an eating disorder, or is sharing the pain of a family member or friend who has an eating disorder. It is heart breaking to watch. May the Goddess protect all who suffer from this illness.

Dance of the Night Sky

2009-04-19T14:09:00.000-07:00

Dance of the Night Sky

The full round moon's glimmer
illuminated the midnight blue sky,
enshrouding the glitter of stars that
shimmered into the encroaching darkness,
shining forth vivid streams of light
upon which translucent graceful fairies
gathered to dance.
The heavens were filled with an
array of prismatic colors that seemed
almost to bring the dawning of the sun.
The twinkling of age old stars,
long since dead,
and the muted hum of crickets
playing their melody to
slow the dawns assent,
called forth the creatures of the forest
to gaze with longing
into the land where their spirits would return.
The clouds, floating along
the heavenly stream of life
began to take forms of mythical beasts,
mythic misadventures,
dragons dancing with unicorns,
and virgins fornicating with Gods.
And the ethereal silence was deafening,
laying like a blanket across the land
as dew laden leaves quivered
in exuberant expectation of dawn.
And then just before the ascention of the sun,
star formed creations
and cloud dreamed creatures
met in a duel for the heavenly sky,
only to discover that they
were sent back from whence they came
with the beginnings of a new day's dawn.
And the sky was once more
possessed by the Sun God.

Author's Notes: The night is filled with so much more than our minds can conceive. It is a magical time, from dusk till just before the rising of the sun, because it is hidden away from view, its mysteries still unpenitrated by the modern human world. And in it, anything can happen.

Hermit of the Tarot

2009-04-19T14:08:00.000-07:00

Hermit of the Tarot

Where my feet tread upon sand,
moving forward across the land,
no print is left within my path
to be wiped clear by the ocean's wrath,
no footprints lost in the wake of my past,
no regret filled forms to fill the cast.

Where my hands have touched living trees,
no ochar print is left to see,
to mark my presence and connect through time,
to bring the past and present to rhyme,
no carvings burned to connect the line
for a life lived well I leave no sign.

The mark I leave upon this plane,
forever unseen and ever shall remain,
intangible, invisible, and always illusive,
like the Hermit of the tarot, dark and reclusive.
And though it is hidden and forgotten by most,
still it persists as a shadow, a ghost.
So when you are still, I will stand by you near,
in love and spirit, I will be with you here.

Translucent Diamond Tears of Angels

2009-04-19T14:07:00.000-07:00

Translucent Diamond Tears of Angels

On Earth, a child lies silent and still,
huddled on the floor of a small garbage hut.
She is wrapped in thread-bare rags
that cannot hide her swollen belly
nor her listless empty gaze she
shows to a world that does not care.
She is close to death and her life
will go unheeded, untended, and forgotten
when her body is laid to rest with
the untold scores of others who have died.
And on this planet, no one will shed a tear
for the faceless child whose name is forgotten
when she leaves her mortal frame.

In heaven, beyond its majestic pearly gates,
the angels raise their trumpets in song
as choruses of voices rise in perfect harmony.
And angels crowd the streets of
glittering gold to watch the procession
of spirit guides bring their foundling home.
And behold,
the trumpets fall silent
and the chorus mute,
as all that is heard are the
whispered sighs of each angel,
in turn, weeping.

They cry in their joy uncontained,
as diamond tears stream
from their glorious eyes and
fall to worlds below
to burst into heavenly showers.
Where once there was
drought, disease, and death,
there is life reborn and renewed
to welcome home and embrace
the forgotten child of Earth.

Welcome home, Angel child,
Welcome home and blessed be!

Footprints in the Bloodied Sand

2009-04-19T14:06:00.000-07:00

Footprints in the Bloodied Sand

She awoke from her slumber to another bright and arid morning amidst the surrounding dunes of sand and the tall rocky mounds that strained to reach toward the heavens without ever succeeding. She quickly and quietly dressed herself in a gown of pale blue material that enshrouded her from head to toe, while the slumbering forms of her husband and children slept on in their beds. After dressing, she knelt down on a small woven reed mat to give thanks to Allah for the new day. And when the alloted time for prayer had elapsed, she rose to set about her days work, for her days were filled with the needs of her husband and of her children.

An hour passed as she prepared the meal that her family would eat. And in that time the two daughters of her family rose to help in preparing the meal and readying their home for the time when their father and their brothers would awaken.

And finally, when the men arose, and they had finished dressing and giving thanks to Allah in prayer, as the women had done before them, they sat to their meal and began discussions of the days happenings and coming events.

In the space of a moment her husband's eyes met hers in a loving smile of thanks and acknowledgment. And if one was not paying attention, they certainly would have missed the way the husband's affections softened his face and crinkled the skin around his dark eyes. But the children saw, and the children knew, for the two sisters looked at one another and smiled.

As the discussion continued, it turned to the impending arrival of a celebration that filled all of them with exuberant excitement and expectation. For the coming event was the advent of their cousin's eldest son's wedding to a young woman from a neighboring town. It was also their cousin's first opportunity to give such a celebration since his own wedding of many years ago. It was going to be a joyous occasion filled with family, friends, food and much laughter. And it is needless to say, that all of those who sat around the small table that morning were caught up in the excitement of the coming event.

When the morning meal had ended and the men had set out for another days labor to earn another day's wage, the mother and her daughters, with two small boys in tow, began the happy discussions of what they would each where to the evenings festivities. They each in turn held up fabric after fabric of gauzy silken materials to examine them for rips and breaks in the delicate threading. that would need mending before nightfall. The small boys chased one another around their mother's feet as the women sat to their mending and discussion.

It was in that moment that eerie sounds reached their ears from outside. So they rushed out to see what the cause was, and there they saw planes flying overhead and they knew that the invaders had come. And as they stood, mesmerized by the sight of the planes, explosions began to erupt about the city, throwing people into chaos and shaking the very ground upon which they stood.

The women began to scream as they ran to pick up the two small boys who had wandered a short distance away. The two sisters reached them first and scooped up the children into their arms. The mother stopped, short of breath, but sure that her boys were safe in her two daughter's arms. And there she stood, with planes flying overhead and people running for shelter in the chaos, as a bomb fell on the street before her and exploded as she watched helplessly. It erupted where her children stood, sending each of them flying in separate directions. And then the bursting and flaring waves of heat, fire, and blood reached the mother, knocking her to the ground as it scorched her clothing and her flesh in unison.

When her husband, who had seen the planes and heard the bombs, reached his home, he found his wife in the street, barely clinging to life and weeping. He held her to his chest, as she moaned and cried incoherently, and turned to survey the carnage. And to his horror, he saw what little remained of his children scattered about the road, littering it like garbage. The sand was drenched in blood, and he sat, defeated, and weeping tears that he did not even realize he shed. Anger and sorrow, stronger than any he had ever felt, mingled within him and the seeds of vengeance were planted for another day. But now, now he held his wife's limp body in his arms, unseeing, in shock. Now his heartbeat drowned out the wailing cries of the injured and those left who had found their loved ones' bodies. In that moment his world ended, ceasing to exist. And for what, he wondered, as violent cries of sorrow finally broke from his lips combining with the multitude of other's sorrow. For what, indeed?

Author's Notes: This is a story of someone's family who is lost to us within the hot arrid desert of what seems like another world. But is this world really as foreign, as alien, to us as we believe? We each go about our daily lives working, marrying, loving our families in the attempt to give our children a brighter future, never expecting terror to come to our shores. Is this world really so foreign? Are their children any less deserving than ours? Or in a world as diverse as our own, where the peoples of every nation are multiplying by the day, is it the color of your skin and the religion you follow that defines your worthiness? In this world of power, wealth, and privilage centered on a very select few who control the world's economy and wield the power of the nuclear bomb, we are all interconnected on the tidal wave of someone else's whim, be it soldiers who follow orders, the people of a conquered nation, or the citizens of a nation that slowly chips away at their rights and freedoms. At the end of the day, what does it really matter who hurt who first, when countless lives are lost on whichever front you stand on? The blood of ours and theirs runs just as red and mingles in the sand.

My words are not written nor ment to advocate any one religious group or a jahad. They merely offer up an alternative perspective that is to little seen in our country. The effects of war take their toll on the conquered as well as the conquerors. And while this particular story is a work of fiction, it is written to make the reader think.

Auschwitz Home

2009-04-19T14:04:00.002-07:00

Auschwitz Home

Auschwitz Home
Hated, Persecuted,
We go on living day by day,
branded by a gold star, crying Juden.
We scrimp and pray in a tiny hovel, home.
Then they come, guns in hand.
It is the time of a progrom.
Hidden away, we dare not breath,
but to no avail, we are found,
Papa NO!

We are pushed into cattle cars,
the stench of bodies and sweat and waste
permeates the air we breath
and we are crushed
by the sheer number of bodies
packed inside.

Aushwitz, now home.
But where is Mama going?
They say she is to be bathed.
They promised, but I have not seen her since.

Two years have passed,
and I see my reflection in a mud puddle.
Today I am 18, a woman,
but all I see is a skeleton,
shaven hair, thin gown, empty eyes.
How can this be?

Today the horror will end,
the beating will stop,
and I will see my parents again.
And I will know peace, at last.

Today, I was chosen to be gassed.

Heaven's Altar

2009-04-19T14:04:00.001-07:00

Heaven's Altar

What is love without risk? Is it worth all or nothing? For one moment,
one touch, one smile? Is love truly lying within the arms of a lover
upon heaven's altar? Sharing so completely that words need not be said
and thoughts need not be dwelled upon? When the touch of a hand
becomes more passionate and endearing, than that of the most sensual
physical caress? One wonders.....one dreams......is there really such
a thing as soul mates? Are there truly such things as 'happily ever
afters'? I wonder....I dream...
I yearn for heaven's embrace....

What Dreams May Come

2009-04-19T13:58:00.000-07:00

What Dreams May Come

What dreams may come to the troubled heart
when pain is released and solace is found.
I crave not love or passion. I seek none
of the frivolity and companionship.
I dream only of study and growth.
I wish only to find my spiritual wings
and ascend to the heavens to
fly on wings of misted amber
where the past and the present intertwine
and shroud my veiled mind in truth.
Awaken me now to the transcendent spirit
that is Heaven's grace and
spirit me away to lay bear all that I am
upon the altar of Heaven's infinite wisdom.

Spirit Revival

2009-04-19T13:52:00.000-07:00

Spirit Revival

She stood in death and watched on, as the tea cup fell from

her lips. She could not fathom her sister's wrath upon her.

She shivered at the sight of her sister calling to the

family to come and view the now dead husk. She screamed out,

without word nor voice. But somewhere, she knew, she had

been heard, for in that second, she was swept away from the

sight of her sister's duplicitous mourning, and was whisked into

complete darkness, full of warmth and peace. A place where

thought did not exist, beyond her own comfort. And then, as

of a sudden, the darkness opened to harsh light and she was

dragged from her cocoon of warmth and safety. Pulled from

her haven, brought into the light, she was summarily

smacked on the behind. As she opened her mouth to cry out

she realized that she was now, nothing more and nothing

less than an new born infant. And so she proceeded to

scream loudly her shock and terror, while the doctors

smiled on and wrapped her into her new mother's arms. Laid

next to this woman's chest, hearing the thumping of her

heartbeat, she calmed and finally fell into a deep sleep.

Epiphany's Singular Moment of Exquisite Change

2009-04-19T13:50:00.000-07:00

Epiphany's Singular Moment of Exquisite Change

Close your eyes,
and drift back to your hidden memories.
Remember,
what it was that drew you
to this mystical world we walk in now?
And tell me what drew you to this path?
Was it a dream?
Was it a vision?
Was it a passion for history that called you forth?
Or was it a need to escape the confines
of a monotheistic, patriarchal religion based
solely on the backs of other more ancient traditions?
Was it a moment of epiphany,
as you walked through the gardens of nature
that awakened you to this path of trials?
Was it the humiliating and scorching pain
of abuse that whispered for you
to take back control of your own life?

Remember,
for in a single moment,
your world changed drastically.
Your perception,
your thoughts,
your self image,
your beliefs,
altered as you stepped over the threshold,
in a single defining moment,
as though you were finally
awakening from a long slumber.

Is it etched in your mind?
Do all things that dwell in the now,
flow from that single instant
when you were changed so dramatically?
Or is there a hint of mystery
that refuses to be solved
which pertains to that singular moment
when you altered your course,
and began to walk the rocky winding path?

And in that moment,
did you feel a yearning,
a hunger like no other,
driving you to seek,
knowledge,
understanding,
wisdom
and peace?
Have you found it yet?
And will those qualities
flow from that one moment of
epiphany and change?

Author's Notes: We walk a path which flows out of a singular moment in time, different for each of us, where we were awakened, called, drawn to, or brought to a unique and mysterious world filled with ethereal beauty, pantheons of Gods/Goddesses, the supernatural, the exquisite beauty of nature and intriguing feats of magic and psychic phenomena. And one of the starkest differences between Christianity and Paganism is that while only a select few are called into the service of the Judeo-Christian God as Ministers, Priests, Preachers, Prophets and Nuns, we have each had a singular moment of epiphany which altered us to the point of turning our backs on our own familiar religion to walk a path into the unknown. We have all received such a calling, whether we know it in our waking minds or not. And it is this singular moment which defines our journey down a very difficult rocky, winding path filled with road blocks of prejudice. And yet we still tread upon the path, because we have become aware of what our journey will guide us too, understanding and wisdom through lessons learned.

I find it intriguing to contemplate such a singular moment in time, meaningless for most, but ground breaking and earth shattering for the few who are brave enough to turn to and walk this path.

Holocaust Remembrance: A Memorial In Time

2009-04-19T13:45:00.000-07:00

Holocaust Remembrance: A Memorial In Time

In secret and in silence,
they were shipped away from their homelands,
forced into ghettos,
scrimping and saving their money,
in the hopes of being able
to feed their families on a single day.

Then the time of progroms reigned,
where men, women and children alike
were butchered,
slaughtered in pits dug by their own hands.
While others were forcibly detained,
jam packed into cattle cars
full of human excrement and filth,
and sent to those places
held in high secrecy.

In those secret forgotten places,
the world stills as time becomes meaningless,
and inhuman brutality is the victor of the day.
Some are given mercifully short detainment
and are gassed immediately.
While others work their fingers to the bone,
starve and become ill,
and weep as they watch their bretheren
slowly waste away,
fading into nothing.

Today is a day of rememberance
for those who died,
for those that suffered and survived,
for the children of survivors,
and for all who acknowledge
this sad brutal part of our
universal human history.

May the past never be repeated.
May we learn from our past.
And may we never forget what has
come before us.

Author's Notes: Today, April 14, 2009, is Holocaust Remembrance Day. And though we are not by definition Jewish, it is still a deep part of our universal human history. It must be preserved and remembered. There is a prayer on Beliefnet.com that says it all, so I am posting it here, as well. It was found on a scrap of paper at the liberation of Ravensbruck Concentration Camp in Germany:

'Prayer for Yom HaShoah (Holocaust Remembrance Day)

Lord, remember not only the men of good will, but also those of ill will. But do not remember all the suffering they have inflicted upon us. Remember rather the fruits we have brought, thanks to this suffering: our comradeship, our loyalty, our humility, the courage, the generosity, the greatness of heart that has grown out of this. And when they come to judgment, let all the fruits we have bourne be their forgiveness. '

May we never forget the past, so that it will never again be the future.

To Stand Alone in Painful Sorrow

2009-04-19T13:44:00.000-07:00

To Stand Alone in Painful Sorrow

To stand alone in painful sorrow,
while tears are wept for anguish felt,
and silent cries into the night
go unheard and unacknowledged
for the turbulent trials that are faced.

To stand alone in the harsh grip of grief
while a lifetime of memories ebb away
on tears spilled into graveyard earth,
remembering what was once lived,
remembering what was once felt,
remembering what is now lost.

To stand alone in the face of soul wrenching abuse,
while fists of rage touch upon gentle skin,
and words of hate batter the soul,
little by little, chipping away strength
and an identity of self.

To stand alone amidst the tremors of life's trials,
and survive to stand again tomorrow
and face the renewing dawn,
battle worn and tear stained,
and walk amongst the living,
and know that there is hope,
because they are still here.

Author's Notes: Even through pain and sorrow, there can be hope. If you truly desire it, it will gleam in the most unexpected places. You are never truly alone. Brightest Blessings!

Lady Spring's Renewal

2009-04-19T13:43:00.002-07:00

Lady Spring's Renewal

She stands frozen,
encased in snow and ice.
Cast in darkness
and perpetual sleep,
she awaits the inevitable dawn,
when the warmth will return
with the rise of the new spring sun.
For then, the snow and ice
will mourn and weep,
slowly trickling away,
like the sands in an hourglass,
into riverbeds and lakes
which flow into the Earth's very core,
to feed the rise of springs coming blooms.

And when she awakens,
the sun will smile down upon the ground,
from its heavenly place among the clouds,
and buds will rise,
the Earth will breath,
and she will raise her glorious voice
to bring rebirth to the barren lands.
For she is the coming of Spring,
the renewal of life,
and the promise of hope eternal.
And for this alone,
we rejoice.

Author's Notes: I was driving along a road today, and I saw some of the first budding trees of the season bursting with color and life. Such beauty can only come when spring is awakening from its long perpetual sleep of winter. I was awe struck and humbled by its magnificence.

A Word - Witch

2009-04-19T13:43:00.001-07:00

A Word - Witch

There is a word - Witch -
that defies the borders of countries,
which crosses the walls of religions,
that is rooted in every society
from developing nations
to modern civilizations.
It is a word born of superstition,
of fear,
of hate.
It is a word that has been
used as justification,
through out time,
for the abuse of,
mutilation of,
beating of,
ostracizing of,
and finally the murder of,
practitioners and innocents alike.

But what, in truth,
does this word - Witch - mean?
Is it a superstitious notion of
women and men, alike,
cavorting with demons,
romping with the Devil,
dancing with the damned?
Is it anyone who casts
evil hexes and spells on innocents,
tormenting them day and night,
murdering children,
destroying crops,
ravaging virgin maidens in
sadistic satanic rituals?

Or is this word - Witch -
something entirely different?
Could it be that it is simply misunderstood?
Could it be,
the reverence of nature,
the honoring of the old ways
that are little known to the outside world,
the worship of Gods and Goddesses
found to be heathen in this
modern monotheistic time?

And could this word - Witch -
have a double meaning?
Perhaps for one group,
it represents the strength
and beauty of the old ways
which set us apart from
modern monotheistic religions.
And perhaps for another group,
out of fear,
hate,
prejudice,
and lack of knowledge and understanding,
it stands for scapegoat,
a lesser being on which one
can place all the blames of the world,
for it is a tangible link to
their naive definition of evil.

- Witch -
The Unknown.
The Misunderstood.
The Outcasts.
The Ostracized.
The Forgotten.
The Scapegoat.
We are all of these and none,
for we are - Witch -.

To Calm the Raging Storm Within

2009-04-19T13:40:00.000-07:00

To Calm the Raging Storm Within

On a dark rainy night,
I sat listening in silence,
as the storm raged overhead.
The mighty wind blew
branches to the ground
and scattered leaves in every direction.
And then suddenly,
it calmed.
The droplets of water that fell,
slowed their quickening,
and the wind calmed to
a gentle breeze in the cool night air.

And in that moment,
as rain trickled down from my hair,
and rolled into eyes,
and the wind gently caressed my cheek,
like the kiss of a forgotten loved one,
I knew a completeness beyond discription,
for such peace defies words alone.

There I stood,
as the calming of
the raging storm outside
calmed the calamity of emotion
that raged within my heart.
In that moment,
a hole within my heart was healed
and I wept.

Author's Notes: Mother nature can duplicate so many of the raging torrents of emotions that pour through our own souls. And if you open your heart to her, she can calm the raging storm within, as easily as any raging storm from without. The Goddess walks in all aspects of life, all you must do is open your eyes and view the world in all of its magnificent glory. Peace be with you all!

Goddess Eternal, Mother Divine

2009-04-19T13:39:00.000-07:00

Goddess Eternal, Mother Divine

She who goes by every name.
She who stands at the threshold of the soul
bearing the threads of life
that stretch before her in every direction.
She who stands smiling as she watches
as we stumble and fall,
and then rise again to correct ourselves.
She who has a dress for every occassion,
and a face for every individual soul
who invokes her by name - any name,
for those that cry out for her in silence
in times of sorrow and strife,
for those that seek to touch others spirits
to raise them to the soaring heights
of love and passion,
and for those who come seeking.

She is inspiration divine.
She is the carnal passion of love.
She is the essential core of every spirit
that soars through milky white skies.

Goddess,
Maiden,
Mother,
Crone,
By any name, she is Goddess Eternal.
By any face, she is Mother Divine.
And by her touch,
we are cradled
in unconditional love,
pure light,
and the song of infinity.
And in so doing,
from womb to grave,
we are complete in her arms,
and in her eyes,
we shine.

Author's Notes: I never felt the warm embrace of being cradled when I sat in a Christian Church listening to my own father preach about a Loving and Jealous God. I could not take comfort in the image of what I was taught to have faith in. Something else called to me. Something that shined brighter than anything I had ever felt or experienced before. It was Her.....summoning me to her side. And since then, through all of my own personal trials, she has walked at my side. I am never truly alone, and neither are you. All you must do is simply realize, that you are complete and that you are indeed.......loved.

One Island Amongst A Sea of Sharks

2009-04-19T13:38:00.000-07:00

One Island Amongst A Sea of Sharks

You stand as one
in a world of faith and morals.
Misunderstood,
ostracized,
belittled,
and abused.

But still you stand
as the island that protects from
the raging winds and seas,
as the lighthouse that stands as beacon
shining glorious light into the darkness.

And still you walk,
among men who see themselves
as your betters.
Still you tread,
among women who pull their children away
out of fear of taint.

And here you stand,
one among many,
different,
but not alone,
for together we stand,
together we shed tears,
together we know joy,
no matter how far
the distance separates us.
We walk together,
never truly alone.

Author's Notes: We all know what it is like to be an island among a sea of sharks. Prejudice, hate, pain, and sorrow fill our lives at times. But for all of that, we lead spiritually enriched lives filled to the brim with love, be it from spirit or friend. Our communities are the glue that bind us together into a richly diverse family. Never forget that you are not alone. And let that knowledge, in the light of soul wrenching sorrow, see you through to tomorrow. With much love in my heart, I pray each of you see and believe this to be true.

The Jewel Within

2009-04-19T13:36:00.002-07:00

The Jewel Within

The Jewel within,
I see it so clear,
from man to man
and woman to woman,
I see it glow brightly in each and all.

The Jewel Within,
what is it, you ask?
It is a light that shines so bright,
as to cause the facade of reality to fall away.
It is the untapped potential that
lays so deep within the soul,
as to be forgotten, untouched, and locked away

Its beautiful spiraling
shows the interconnection
of all living things
And this is what is seen underneath,
the reality that truly is a facade

It is here, where we know
we are not alone in this false reality,
and that we do not walk our journeys
alone in this false facade of reality.
We, all of us, walk together,
interwoven and interconnected,
through the jewel within each of us.

The Aftermath of Battle

2009-04-19T13:36:00.001-07:00

The Aftermath of Battle

The spirits rise in a torrent of rage,
a chaos so frenzied that a war is waged.
Rising on high, out of turbulant storms,
churning waves leaving naught but a heart
broken and malformed.

Angels weep in sorrowful song,
mourning for the heart that was
ravaged for so long.
While demons scour high, a sky of dust,
leaving the heart ashen,
no more than a crust.

And then the remnants of the heart
who once stood in glory at the start,
beats no more the drums of the living
but leaves, in part, the gift of the giving.

Mourners weep and cry their tears,
shedding away their morbid fears,
to fall and nourish the graveside earth,
and watch new life spring in the dawn of rebirth.

And in the aftermath of battle,
when tears are shed and
men stand like cattle,
the spirit rises on angel's wings,
reaching for the holy home
of Earth's Queens and Kings.

Author's Notes: Life is a struggle that we all face, and eventually cave to, be it through illness, accident or treachery. Life is a battle with influences coming from all directions, and they swirl and dance around us, leaving us in chaos and confusion. And then we are slowly torn apart, by the ravages of age and time itself. But the beauties discovered on the journey to getting home, no matter how turbulent the journey, make it all worth while.

My Blessed Friend

2009-04-19T13:30:00.000-07:00

My Blessed Friend

Reach out your hand,
stretch out your arm,
and never shall you be alone again,
for I will be there in whatever you do.
I will not judge.
I will not condemn.
And no matter what you do,
I will not turn away from you,
because I love you,
my sweet blessed friend.

Let me help you to stand,
and in so doing,
you will help me stand as well.
We are united
and never ever alone.
Let me catch you as you fall,
for I have the strength of 10 men,
and I will not let you down.

All you must do, my sweet beautiful friend,
is believe in me, as I believe in you.
And from that moment on,
you will never be alone again.
You will never again walk your path
without someone at your side,
and someone behind you,
ready to catch you if you should fall..

Rest your weary head on my shoulders
and learn to lean on me,
for I have the strength to comfort
and the gift to feel what you feel.

I hear your plea, my sweet sweet friend.
and I am reaching my hand out to you,
to carry you away from the precipus.
Share your tears with me,
and I will share my laughter with you.
Let me help you find your way
to the path of enlightenment.
My sweet, enduringly beautiful friend.