|the day before writing prompted by this visual|
See through a glass clearly yet all is upside down,
a reflection reversed and up-ended,
so that ground is air and wind is earth,
and we are all one in the bubble of the world of illusion.
We think we are one way and yet could easily be the other,
only our vision, our perception,
details the path we travel.
So many eyes that see the same yet perceive what is revealed so differently.
Crystal clear depths that rise above the sky into the ether where all is so transparent.
And down below,
the solid is translucent allowing freshness and insight
to flow easily into the grounding of rooted Oneness.
allowing the flow without restriction,
without control of thought as pen sweeps upon the page and
mind is magically transmitted onto something that will last longer than the fleeting spark itself,
a keepsake of the moment not necessary and yet a gift here and there where we share together,
each of us writing, and knowing, simple trust,
that what spark emerges upon the page is an expression of journey
that blossoms here just as the flowers in the field.
The clarity of perception does not have to make sense in the moment
for at some point it will simply BE the sense of that moment of expression,
and will be right side up for some and
upside down for others.
We all perceive in the way we need to,
our paths unique yet following a common star across the galaxy,
mirrored within the bubble that is the world illusion.
Words, just words.
Helping us communicate, that is their gift.
Coming from love and desire to reach others, to reach out.
We are the tender center, the heart of the spark, and when we open,
the honey of love flows, transformed by those who welcome,
we embrace each other in our common field of seeds and blooms and spare stalks of what once was.
Trailing thoughts that have no control, just flowing, releasing,
escaping into the world to be born again and again,
rearranged or captured briefly.
Only we who write can share so broadly with fine lines
like wrinkles upon the face of time Herself as we expose our innermost selves,
the thoughts that are hidden by some become revealed for healing into Union.
We are all One.
What we express is not alone and abandoned,
not an orphan walking the desert without hope for always nearby,
beneath the prickles of the armor we raise,
lay the tender hearts of love and nourishment.
Blown hither and yon, delicate words of ancient measure,
we tremble upon the moment, kneeling and offering our meager thoughts into the world,
the form a blessed gift of illusion's joy to explore and learn from and find comfort within.
We all walk together yet alone.
Each of us finding our own way in the clear crystal we see through
when we shine and polish the dirty walls we've built around us
until they fall gently away beneath the caress of a soft, warm cloth
and our scars are buffed until smooth.
See the wounds, healed through gentle touch and precious birth,
each of us wandering into a mystery too beautiful to behold directly
so we see through the glass,
the colors reflected,
and drink from Her goblet of life waters flowing forever,
touching each droplet that connects us all.
No separation for all our oceans pulse together and we see clearly.
Upside down or right side up is no matter for all is perception of the One.
We drink of Gaia's clarity together and fall asleep within Her embrace.
All is revealed.
© Jarosław Brzychcy | Dreamstime.com
The wheel turns,
the hourglass is tipped,
life's cauldron is brimming with charred remains and possibility.
No longer is spirit confined to the soup
but swirling and flying with all colors and shapes
among the winds and into the ether
that gives birth to all
with the sound of laughter and love.
Breathing in the song of the world,
we are free of limitation.
Like the fireflies that seem to appear magically in the dark yet are always here,
lighting my way is Spirit and the souls of all who love
and companions who once were are never gone.
Close my eyes and I can see him.
I can hear his voice if I listen closely,
feel his body beneath my fingers.
He's still here more subtle, in spirit,
it is only that I need to be aware, present,
and pause to breathe him in.
Moving with the change,
lifting my feet and heart to
go with the flow of birth and death,
with the life that is now and beyond.
As one soars away, another calls.
Always there is another blessed being who gives freely and accepts openly.
Not expectation or demands of responsibility but
giving because of love, I am humbled by innocence
that shines through the shadows like a beacon.
Rediscovering this place of freedom,
this space from which to respond out of love,
is an individual path, a unique journey to us all,
one that cannot be forced but simply allowed.
To love and give to another,
then suffer the momentary pain of loss,
and move through it upon soft wings and gentle tears,
is a gift.
Not avoid the love out of fear of pain.
Open to a moment of pure presence so exquisite that it almost blinds.
Spiral into the joy of life and love that includes creation and loss.
I don't want to lose the joy from fear of the pain
that is a final expression of deep connection
now disconnected from form yet still tied together in spirit,
our threads woven as One for all time,
the patterns shared.
Be happy to love and be loved,
without fear of death and dying,
because I can't ignore it or distance myself from ending
if I cherish beginnings and creation
for they walk hand in hand in the world of form.
I look around and see the blossoming of creation and feel joy.
Gratitude that if he had to go, that he left when so much is just beginning.
And if I listen,
I can hear the voices of all my beloveds flying in the wind,
carried around the world,
soaring in song and rejoicing in harmony,
singing the world into Spring.
What a beautiful song.