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.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Walk of the Mother Goddess
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.
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
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.
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
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.
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
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.
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?
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.
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
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.
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?
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.
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
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.
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
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.
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
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!
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
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.
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
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.
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
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.
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
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!
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
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.
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
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.
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
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.
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
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?/
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
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.
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
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.
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
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.
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
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.
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
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.
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
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.
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
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.
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
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.
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
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. ^ _ ^
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
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.
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
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.
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
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.
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
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.
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
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.
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
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.
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
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.
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
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!
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!
Auschwitz Home
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.
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
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 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
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.
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
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.
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
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.
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
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.
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
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!
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
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.
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
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 -.
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
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!
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
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.
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
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.
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
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 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
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.
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
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.
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.
Speak and the World will Listen
Speak and the World will Listen
I have walked the roads,
and strolled the paths,
that have lead me to this troubled state,
where time is meaningless,
and the world is mute,
and I sit and await the coming of fate.
Here alone I ponder this,
and wonder what tremors are yet to come,
for fate is fickle and men so young,
leaving in its wake a state of wounded numb.
And I am left to ponder with great distress,
tears unshed and words unsaid,
the state the world lies crumbled in,
and watch in horror,
the mounting piles of the dead.
Women tortured, women harassed,
women raped, and what at last?
Men fighting,
Men dying on foreign ground,
leaving naught but bitter spirits bound.
People hungry, children in tears,
a world at war, beyond my comprehension.
Cities flooded, homes destroyed,
leaving in its wake environmental devastation.
and all of this - beyond my imagination.
This world so young, its children too,
casting about to fight like fools,
while small men in power,
force upon this world the fighting
of their own personal duels.
Tears unshed and words unsaid,
I leave this thought with you,
will you sit in troubled silence
weeping for the fallen few,
or will you stand and voice your shout,
casting aside the horrors you are forced to view,
And speak with voice and vote in hand,
all that you know to be true?
Author's Notes: I am troubled by the world today. All of the pain suffered by ......well.........everyone......if we are honest. Rape, murder, war, religion, ecological devastation....this is just an eye opening reminder to voice your opinion and shout your outrage, because no one will ever know if you do not speak out loud. Speak and the world will listen, even if it takes a lifetime.
I have walked the roads,
and strolled the paths,
that have lead me to this troubled state,
where time is meaningless,
and the world is mute,
and I sit and await the coming of fate.
Here alone I ponder this,
and wonder what tremors are yet to come,
for fate is fickle and men so young,
leaving in its wake a state of wounded numb.
And I am left to ponder with great distress,
tears unshed and words unsaid,
the state the world lies crumbled in,
and watch in horror,
the mounting piles of the dead.
Women tortured, women harassed,
women raped, and what at last?
Men fighting,
Men dying on foreign ground,
leaving naught but bitter spirits bound.
People hungry, children in tears,
a world at war, beyond my comprehension.
Cities flooded, homes destroyed,
leaving in its wake environmental devastation.
and all of this - beyond my imagination.
This world so young, its children too,
casting about to fight like fools,
while small men in power,
force upon this world the fighting
of their own personal duels.
Tears unshed and words unsaid,
I leave this thought with you,
will you sit in troubled silence
weeping for the fallen few,
or will you stand and voice your shout,
casting aside the horrors you are forced to view,
And speak with voice and vote in hand,
all that you know to be true?
Author's Notes: I am troubled by the world today. All of the pain suffered by ......well.........everyone......if we are honest. Rape, murder, war, religion, ecological devastation....this is just an eye opening reminder to voice your opinion and shout your outrage, because no one will ever know if you do not speak out loud. Speak and the world will listen, even if it takes a lifetime.
A Humble Woman's Prayer
A Humble Woman's Prayer
~God and Goddess~
~Lord and Lady~
~Mother Earth and Father Sky~
Here this humble woman's prayer for those most in need of your light, your guidence, and your love.
For those who stand alone in the face of adversity
For those who believe they've nothing left to live for
For those who fight bigotry and hate
For those who haven't the strength to fight
For those who fear what they do not understand or control
For those who hunger
For those who thirst for that which is beyond the physical
For those who are abused
For those who are lost and are, as yet, seeking
Heal them and help them find peace in each of the endeavors. Guide them to truth and answers. Renew their spirit and their hope. Grace them with your love.
~God and Goddess~
~Lord and Lady~
~Mother Earth and Father Sky~
Here this humble woman's prayer for those most in need of your light, your guidence, and your love.
For those who stand alone in the face of adversity
For those who believe they've nothing left to live for
For those who fight bigotry and hate
For those who haven't the strength to fight
For those who fear what they do not understand or control
For those who hunger
For those who thirst for that which is beyond the physical
For those who are abused
For those who are lost and are, as yet, seeking
Heal them and help them find peace in each of the endeavors. Guide them to truth and answers. Renew their spirit and their hope. Grace them with your love.
The Gentle Caress of a Memory
The Gentle Caress of a Memory
Do you remember the heart that kindled
a light so bright it scorched and branded you?
Can you see that perfect face,
of loves truest mate of the soul?
Can you feel a hand's gentle caress
brushing against the skin
like the cooling breeze on a warm night?
I can.....
sometimes......
but then it slips away from my touch
on the wings of a long ago past.
And it is gone.
Now there is light anew.
A new kind of magic to
spread through my limbs,
reaching my tingling finger tips
and flooding through my coursing veins.
And what, you wonder, is the
cause of this light renewed?
I am.......
and I am happy.
Do you remember the heart that kindled
a light so bright it scorched and branded you?
Can you see that perfect face,
of loves truest mate of the soul?
Can you feel a hand's gentle caress
brushing against the skin
like the cooling breeze on a warm night?
I can.....
sometimes......
but then it slips away from my touch
on the wings of a long ago past.
And it is gone.
Now there is light anew.
A new kind of magic to
spread through my limbs,
reaching my tingling finger tips
and flooding through my coursing veins.
And what, you wonder, is the
cause of this light renewed?
I am.......
and I am happy.
The Raven that Could not Heal - A Spider's Thread
The Raven that Could not Heal - A Spider's Thread
What point is there, that we mourn our fate,
a path laid before us without our sacred vow?
What truth is there, that we learn in the darkness,
as we lay like cold forgotten husks in the muck?
What fate is there, as we mourn our end,
as we watch the glittering lights expire of those we love?
Deeper we sink into the blackened tar,
falling helplessly, unable to cry out.
Deeper, Deeper, Deeper,
we let go and surrender to the dark ooze.
For you see, if we forget, but for one moment
the glimmering light that shines through
the darkest points of nothingness,
then we sink,
deeper,
deeper,
and deeper still.
It is only when we are completely emeshed
within the smothering flesh of the darkness,
that we remember that we need only ourselves
to rise out of the husk that we enhabit
within a sea of darkness.
All that is required is a single spark,
a single spark of recoginitions light
to guide us and pinpoint the path
out of the darkness.
Find your thread, Raven and
rise out of your pain .
For you have never been,
nor will you ever truly be,
alone.
Cling tight to your thread,
and do not look down.
Look only into the light
and find peace at last, my friend.
Author's Notes: There is an old Buddhist or Hindu story (I'm not sure which) that I felt like writing a tribute about. It is about a Spider Goddess who wove the threads of life. One day God came to her and asked her to help a man get out of Hell and she agreed. So when she had made her most resilient thread, she cast it down to hell so that the man could climb up it. Her only warning was, do not look down. When the man began to climb, he looked down and saw that others from Hell had joined him upon the thread. He became afraid that the weight of the others would cause the thread to break. So he took out the knife he carried with him and cut the thread, casting himself and all of the others back into the pits of Hell. Next when God camed to the Spider Goddess, and asked why the man had not been lifted out of Hell yet, the Spider Goddess told him this: 'I warned the man not to look down and to focus only on the journey upward. But alas, he did look down. He saw that others followed him and became afraid that my thread would not hold him as he rose toward Heaven. So instead of pressing forward, he took his knife and cut the thread. In the end, the man and all of the others were cast back down into hell. What the man did not understand is that the thread that he climbed upon would have supported everyone and more, for it is the resiliently strong thread that I used to weave and shape the world.'
God nodded his understanding and left.
My point is simply this. No matter how hard life becomes, no matter how far down we think we have fallen into the pits of 'hell' , there is a thread stretching down from heaven connecting us to it. All we have to do is realize it, look forward, and climb ever higher. Only our own regrets and limitations hinder us from rising higher. And the resilient thread sees beyond both, to what we all truly are, beauty immortal.
What point is there, that we mourn our fate,
a path laid before us without our sacred vow?
What truth is there, that we learn in the darkness,
as we lay like cold forgotten husks in the muck?
What fate is there, as we mourn our end,
as we watch the glittering lights expire of those we love?
Deeper we sink into the blackened tar,
falling helplessly, unable to cry out.
Deeper, Deeper, Deeper,
we let go and surrender to the dark ooze.
For you see, if we forget, but for one moment
the glimmering light that shines through
the darkest points of nothingness,
then we sink,
deeper,
deeper,
and deeper still.
It is only when we are completely emeshed
within the smothering flesh of the darkness,
that we remember that we need only ourselves
to rise out of the husk that we enhabit
within a sea of darkness.
All that is required is a single spark,
a single spark of recoginitions light
to guide us and pinpoint the path
out of the darkness.
Find your thread, Raven and
rise out of your pain .
For you have never been,
nor will you ever truly be,
alone.
Cling tight to your thread,
and do not look down.
Look only into the light
and find peace at last, my friend.
Author's Notes: There is an old Buddhist or Hindu story (I'm not sure which) that I felt like writing a tribute about. It is about a Spider Goddess who wove the threads of life. One day God came to her and asked her to help a man get out of Hell and she agreed. So when she had made her most resilient thread, she cast it down to hell so that the man could climb up it. Her only warning was, do not look down. When the man began to climb, he looked down and saw that others from Hell had joined him upon the thread. He became afraid that the weight of the others would cause the thread to break. So he took out the knife he carried with him and cut the thread, casting himself and all of the others back into the pits of Hell. Next when God camed to the Spider Goddess, and asked why the man had not been lifted out of Hell yet, the Spider Goddess told him this: 'I warned the man not to look down and to focus only on the journey upward. But alas, he did look down. He saw that others followed him and became afraid that my thread would not hold him as he rose toward Heaven. So instead of pressing forward, he took his knife and cut the thread. In the end, the man and all of the others were cast back down into hell. What the man did not understand is that the thread that he climbed upon would have supported everyone and more, for it is the resiliently strong thread that I used to weave and shape the world.'
God nodded his understanding and left.
My point is simply this. No matter how hard life becomes, no matter how far down we think we have fallen into the pits of 'hell' , there is a thread stretching down from heaven connecting us to it. All we have to do is realize it, look forward, and climb ever higher. Only our own regrets and limitations hinder us from rising higher. And the resilient thread sees beyond both, to what we all truly are, beauty immortal.
Sorrow's Song Of Endings
Sorrow's Song of Endings
Father.
You words once sang through my head,
a scourge upon my heart,
a wound that would not heal.
A mirror shattered,
a vessel broken,
a world weary heart torn.
Your words were my punishment,
for never being -
what you wanted,
what you expected,
what you hoped for.
The harder I fought you,
the louder your words reverberated through my mind -
you are nothing,
you are a heathen,
you are ........pitiful.
And for every step forward I took,
for every moment I fought you,
those words ebbed at my soul.
And I believed them, somewhere in my heart of hearts.
Yes, I did.
I doubted my worth.
I doubted my abilities.
I doubted myself.
To be brought so low, and yet not be broken.
To be brought to the moment of death, and yet survive.
It was there, on my deathbed, Father,
all along it had waited -
waited to be noticed,
waited to be acknowledged,
waited for me to wake myself from my delerium.
It was there, on my deathbed, Father,
that I saw myself, whole.
It was then that your words
could no longer touch me,
penetrate me,
wound me.
It was then that something eternal took hold of me,
something beyond your words
and beyond your reckoning.
I am not like you, Father.
I never was, nor shall I ever be.
I am the fruit of your loins,
and indeed your blood courses through my veins.
But I am beyond you, beyond your words,
beyond your petty whimpers of protest -
that I am nothing. For you see, Father,
you were right.
I am nothing.
I am everything.
I am a part of everything,
and everything is a part of me.
And I am eternal,
ethereal,
and beautiful in my own right.
I am as much a light in the night sky,
as all other beings are that bear souls.
And so, my Father,
it is you who is blind.
It is you.......you Father, that should be pitied.
For you do not see in yourself,
what I have found in myself and others.
A light so bright, so strong, so powerful,
that one might even call it deity.
Stay in your safe box, Father.
Close your eyes so you do not bear witness.
Stay blind if you choose.
And I.......I shall soar on wings of heavenly amber
and walk in places you fear to tread.
I am free, Father. I am free.
Father.
You words once sang through my head,
a scourge upon my heart,
a wound that would not heal.
A mirror shattered,
a vessel broken,
a world weary heart torn.
Your words were my punishment,
for never being -
what you wanted,
what you expected,
what you hoped for.
The harder I fought you,
the louder your words reverberated through my mind -
you are nothing,
you are a heathen,
you are ........pitiful.
And for every step forward I took,
for every moment I fought you,
those words ebbed at my soul.
And I believed them, somewhere in my heart of hearts.
Yes, I did.
I doubted my worth.
I doubted my abilities.
I doubted myself.
To be brought so low, and yet not be broken.
To be brought to the moment of death, and yet survive.
It was there, on my deathbed, Father,
all along it had waited -
waited to be noticed,
waited to be acknowledged,
waited for me to wake myself from my delerium.
It was there, on my deathbed, Father,
that I saw myself, whole.
It was then that your words
could no longer touch me,
penetrate me,
wound me.
It was then that something eternal took hold of me,
something beyond your words
and beyond your reckoning.
I am not like you, Father.
I never was, nor shall I ever be.
I am the fruit of your loins,
and indeed your blood courses through my veins.
But I am beyond you, beyond your words,
beyond your petty whimpers of protest -
that I am nothing. For you see, Father,
you were right.
I am nothing.
I am everything.
I am a part of everything,
and everything is a part of me.
And I am eternal,
ethereal,
and beautiful in my own right.
I am as much a light in the night sky,
as all other beings are that bear souls.
And so, my Father,
it is you who is blind.
It is you.......you Father, that should be pitied.
For you do not see in yourself,
what I have found in myself and others.
A light so bright, so strong, so powerful,
that one might even call it deity.
Stay in your safe box, Father.
Close your eyes so you do not bear witness.
Stay blind if you choose.
And I.......I shall soar on wings of heavenly amber
and walk in places you fear to tread.
I am free, Father. I am free.
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
The Crystalline Chrysalis
The Crystalline Chrysalis
Deep within the sepulcher,
waits an ancient ossuary bound,
down deep inside the vaulted catacombs,
far beneath the solid ground.
And secreted within its walls,
stones of reliquary birth,
awaits a treasure of primordial splendor,
longing for the Sun's celestial hearth.
And as a hand reaches back through time,
through earthen soil's memory length,
it touches deep into the ground,
and finds much more than wilted strength.
For there it is brought into the light,
an ancient ossuary unbound,
its bonds of reliquary stone relinquished,
relegated to the piles of rubble which lay around.
And from within its unrestrained walls,
which have stood guard for so long,
a crystalline chrysalis emerges,
which hums a holy verse of song.
It hums to the warm touch of man,
as it hungers for the warmth of the Sun,
to shine its limpid facet pools,
upon its glory, for which has just begun.
And as the solar orb takes flight,
across the event horizon of the day,
there standing amongst the shattered remnants,
a figure of angelic beauty, a seraph of the fey.
With wings of twilight heather,
awash in celestial light,
turning them to golden feathers,
casting her forth in sheer delight.
For she is born again amongst men,
and free to roam where she might,
from heaven's gentle shores of welcome,
to the unrestrained landscapes bathed in starlight.
Deep within the sepulcher,
waits an ancient ossuary bound,
down deep inside the vaulted catacombs,
far beneath the solid ground.
And secreted within its walls,
stones of reliquary birth,
awaits a treasure of primordial splendor,
longing for the Sun's celestial hearth.
And as a hand reaches back through time,
through earthen soil's memory length,
it touches deep into the ground,
and finds much more than wilted strength.
For there it is brought into the light,
an ancient ossuary unbound,
its bonds of reliquary stone relinquished,
relegated to the piles of rubble which lay around.
And from within its unrestrained walls,
which have stood guard for so long,
a crystalline chrysalis emerges,
which hums a holy verse of song.
It hums to the warm touch of man,
as it hungers for the warmth of the Sun,
to shine its limpid facet pools,
upon its glory, for which has just begun.
And as the solar orb takes flight,
across the event horizon of the day,
there standing amongst the shattered remnants,
a figure of angelic beauty, a seraph of the fey.
With wings of twilight heather,
awash in celestial light,
turning them to golden feathers,
casting her forth in sheer delight.
For she is born again amongst men,
and free to roam where she might,
from heaven's gentle shores of welcome,
to the unrestrained landscapes bathed in starlight.
Blind Hearts
Blind Hearts
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 passion? 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 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 passion? 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....
Homeward Bound Spirits
Homeward Bound Spirits
The darkness was wrapped in heavenly mist
that swaddled the night like a babe
in the arms of its mother's love.
The descending clouds swirled and spiraled
in uncertain fate as fairies danced upon
the glistening dew laden ground
and angels looked on in awe struck rapture.
Heaven's gates were spreading wide
to welcome homeward bound souls
from their long journey's travel and
embracing them with the love of peace divine.
"Welcome home, gentle spirits", it seemed to say,
"and lay your bountiful burdens to rest."
And there they entered, free of the physical.
There they came to enter into their
infinite, eternal rest.
The darkness was wrapped in heavenly mist
that swaddled the night like a babe
in the arms of its mother's love.
The descending clouds swirled and spiraled
in uncertain fate as fairies danced upon
the glistening dew laden ground
and angels looked on in awe struck rapture.
Heaven's gates were spreading wide
to welcome homeward bound souls
from their long journey's travel and
embracing them with the love of peace divine.
"Welcome home, gentle spirits", it seemed to say,
"and lay your bountiful burdens to rest."
And there they entered, free of the physical.
There they came to enter into their
infinite, eternal rest.
What Dreams May Come
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.
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.
The Shuttered Cliff Of Truth
The Shuttered Cliff of Truth
What hopes are sought out
when truth is owned
and night turns into day.
For shadows cast
upon past regrets
causing us to shudder and sway.
Speak ye here upon this cliff
and hear your words so true,
for they will never come again
until the day your regrets you rue.
Face the cliff, the precipus,
and know you are not alone,
for in the words of truth behold,
we stand in union
and together we shall atone.
What hopes are sought out
when truth is owned
and night turns into day.
For shadows cast
upon past regrets
causing us to shudder and sway.
Speak ye here upon this cliff
and hear your words so true,
for they will never come again
until the day your regrets you rue.
Face the cliff, the precipus,
and know you are not alone,
for in the words of truth behold,
we stand in union
and together we shall atone.
The Brilliance Of Two
The Brilliance of Two
Two bright beautiful stars,
conceived in unity, bonded as one.
Born of breath and earth,
these stars circled each other,
brilliantly spiraling upward.
And though time may have wrought separation,
they spiraled ever upward together still,
for time and distance held no meaning
for the two whose hearts beat as one.
Not even the spirit departing,
can break the chain that links and binds
these two spiraling soulmates together.
Together in life as one.
Together in death, still.
Together,
Hand and hand,
Heart to heart,
Soul to soul,
for infinity and beyond,
Eternal Sisters, Evermore.
Two bright beautiful stars,
conceived in unity, bonded as one.
Born of breath and earth,
these stars circled each other,
brilliantly spiraling upward.
And though time may have wrought separation,
they spiraled ever upward together still,
for time and distance held no meaning
for the two whose hearts beat as one.
Not even the spirit departing,
can break the chain that links and binds
these two spiraling soulmates together.
Together in life as one.
Together in death, still.
Together,
Hand and hand,
Heart to heart,
Soul to soul,
for infinity and beyond,
Eternal Sisters, Evermore.
Monday, April 6, 2009
Dark Lilith Immortal
Dark Lilith Immortal
I was created by the same hand that created Adam. We, both of us, were formed from the very soil that stood beneath our feet. And we were given but one rule to obey, eat not from the fruits of knowledge and immortality from the trees that were encircled by a meadow, at the center of our paradise.
All was good until we lay in consummation, still with our innocent naivete in tact. Adam refused to lay with me if I did not allow him to lay above. I refused, wishing to know what kind of pleasure would come from being above. So our union remained unconsummated. Because of this I became embittered, for when our creator returned to us, he took the side of Adam and bade me to lay beneath him.
Again, I refused and ran away only to find myself amongst the luscious fruited trees that were decreed as forbidden. Bitterly, I plucked a fruit from each tree and consumed them. They were like ambrosia that melted new understanding within my mouth and tingled a new awareness upon my lips. But my creator found me, still with the juices of the succulent fruit upon my mouth. He chastised me for my disobedience, but his words held no meaning for me, any longer.
I spoke his most ancient and secret of names and was given wings of flames upon which I could rise and escape my Eden sanctuary, that I now saw as my prison. And so I left with angels at my heels demanding my return with taunts and threats of retribution. But I was beyond their exhalted touch by then, as well. They could not halt my departure.
I was enraged, for I was the equal of Adam but less than he in the eyes of my creator. So I escaped to an arid land without vegetation, filled with a salty air that permeated all within its vacinity. There in laid a body of water, by the place where I made my home, which had large pillars of salt that rose from its eternal depths. And in my exploration of my new home, I came across a tribe of nomadic beings who appeared to be some form of human, but unlike myself. They welcomed me without reservation and I joined them. Time seemed to stand still as I began to produce my progeny, my lineage of descendants. Here I thought I was free from the treads that bound me to my creator. But alas, to my everlasting regret, my joy was short lived, for my creator's hands stretched out further than I could have fathomed. And in horror, I watched on helplessly as my creator declared war upon me and mine by the slaughter of my innocent children. But still when his angelic minions came to demand my return, I refused.
Instead, I turned my back on He Who Had Made Me and swore vengence upon his sacred people. I hid from the rays of his sight to emerge in darkness and take to the wind. And from then on, I stole from my creator that which he had taken from me, the living breath from his ordained children of Israel. I was branded Demoness and Harlot, and I was seen as the consort of the fallen angel, Lucifer. And then my creator shamed me further by condemning me to be forgotten through the ages of old.
He took from Adam a rib and molded it into my likeness, my replacement. She was called Eve, the mother of humanity and the supplicant of Adam. But like me before her, she ate from the forbidden fruit and condemned them both by convincing Adam to join her.
They were cast out of Eden's paradise in shame and Eve was brought to bear great pain in the course of producing her lineage. And then, by the hands of her eldest son, her youngest son was brought to his end of days through jealousy. And my hands were tainted red with Able's blood along side my embittered pawn, Cain. For you see, I was the serpent of seduction that brought Eve to the forbidden fruit and I was the instigator of death that wielded Cain's hands. The great innocence of humanity was done and so my creator left them to the free will of their own fates, to live or to perish.
I dwell now within the ancient ruins of the Great Roman Empire, my place of rest buried far beneath the ground. But unlike the fate of Eve's lineage, who evolved with the singular gifts of the tree of knowledge, I have tasted immortality, as well as, knowledge. And so I shall remain until the end of eternity bound to my flesh and barren of life. And I will wander in flight upon wings of fire that are kissed by the aura of the night's wind in search of redemption or retribution, from which I do not know.
Let my voice be heard, my story known, my words understood, and my name remembered, for I am the dark immortal sister of Eve, she who would not submit. And I am the blood moon from which your story began. Call upon me in your rites of passion and your times of retribution and I will bless your chosen course.
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