Revelation Meditation

From a deep meditation in 2001, filed among the annals of my dream experiences and discovered in my current ‘purge’. It has been enlightening in a fresh way to revisit my dreams during those years of growth. I found this poem to be even more relevant today, almost prophetic in some way. It brought back the feelings I had when it came to me.

Transformation Revelation

(Thoughts from the edge of consciousness)

I saw the Earth spread vast before me

with all its pain and suffering.

I heard the cries and felt the sorrow,

the heaviness that life can bring.

Disease and death, despair and danger

thus covering the bloom of Life.

Deceit and hate, mistrust and anger-

the soul of man, beneath the knife.

I spread my arms and swept the land

and called to those of one achord.

We raised our voices to the skies

and called upon the ancient word.

“We lift our prayers to Spirit now,

release all souls in agony,

return our brothers to their lands,

shine bright the Light so we may see.”

Then did the heavens open up,

I saw the Morning Star within.

With outstretched arms he whispered sweet

for all in pain to enter in.

I witnessed famine and decay

depart from Earth as in a storm.

All forms of spirit, wounded fled-

within the Light my heart was warm.

The spire of darkness made its way

on through the gates to pierce the sun.

our song was joined by every soul-

a transformation had begun.

When the ashes dark blew out of sight

there rose a roaring o’er my head,

as the flutter of a thousand wings.

Within the thunder Spirit said,

“Petals from ashes, Life from Death.”

I felt release within Its breath.

Sweet fragrance wafted on every side-

‘twas all and nothing I could describe.

Showers of petals fell to the Earth

as signs of life began to show.

Blades of grass heralded rebirth,

from the mountain hearts, springs did flow.

We raised a new song through our humble tears,

and prayed for wisdom to guide our choice.

We would learn right ways to protect the Earth

as one last time we herd Spirit’s voice.

“It is not in the planning that Salvation comes,

not in the preservation of one’s soul.

It comes through remembering from whence you came-

the Why, the How, the Same, the Whole.

the Why, the How, the Same, the Whole.

Cheryl KP copyright words and image 2020

Changes

More ramblings from an unemployed mind. Stop by and say hi. We can share a few moments together in my sacred space

The door up top? That’s for my buddy Dan Antion. He is a faithful prompt poster and today is for Norm Frampton’s Thursday Doors prompt.

It didn’t fit with my words over there but I wanted to share a door here. This one was taken in Chattanooga, Tennessee a year or so ago.

I hope you are all very well. Stay safe,

Cheryl

May Flowers/Round One

April showers bring May flowers. As I age I find myself identifying more and more with nature in ways I hadn’t imagined before.

There are some lovely white ladies in our front yard that seemed to have shared the same kind of week as me.

 

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Monday smiles!

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Tuesday laying low

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Wednesday hump might win the fight

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Thursday in bits and pieces

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Friday, exposed, soul laid bare..

Excuse me while I crawl into the weekend….but I’ll be back.

A good night’s sleep and my soul will be reborn..

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Deep within beauty remains

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She will shine again!

Crooked/Poetry

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There was a crooked man

who walked a crooked mile

to wag a crooked finger

at the moon’s crooked smile.

 

“Don’t laugh at me,”

he warned,

dejected and forlorn,

feeling quite abused,

angry and confused.

 

“So you’ve come to

me at last,

like a ghost from

out the past.

Is it recompense you seek,

if so why don’t you speak?”

 

(her crooked smile did not waver)

 

 

The crooked little man

took a crooked step

along the crooked walk,

he took a ragged breath

and then began to talk.

 

“You made me what I am,

you wicked, lusty dame.

Wandering this lonely path

until my legs are lame.

For what you promised,

yes you know

beneath that sultry

silver glow,

that love was true and

free for taking.

Thus I have spent a lifetime

making

love, and hope

and wicked ties

only to find it

all was lies.

I believed but

was deceived

you careless liar,

fueling fire

to burn men’s souls.”

 

 

Her majesty just grinned,

“My dear tho you have sinned,

’twas through no fault of mine,

nor the starlit night divine.

Each gem that fell into your hands

was swallowed by the shifting sands

of your deceit,

pressed into dust

from hungry lust

and blown away

at end of play.

Angels all, and at your call

You bruised and used and left them all!”

 

The crooked little man

dropped his head into his hands

and weeping bitter tears,

bemoaned the wasted years;

but she who knows not guilt or shame

felt no remorse for placing blame

upon the head

of he who shed

the tears that bled

his soul away.

(her crooked smile was wistful)

 

“Go back into the mists

and shake your crooked fists

at he who lives within the glass

and looks at you from out the past.

As dust to dust

return you must,

and thus reborn

you shall be sworn

to retribution,

love’s solution

lies in the hands of

he who understands

the turning of the tides

and that no one can hide

from she who holds the key

to bright eternity!

 

Cheryl KP 2018

Copyright Photo and words