Though headlines clamor, voices blare and bitter arguments abound in every fearful sector where the chaos of the world is found, each hibernating embryo refuses to restrain its flow of love beneath the silent snow.
When social order seems to fall into the clutch of grasping hands, a waiting surge is poised to call upon the truth that countermands the venom of contagious lies before its spread can fertilize the hopelessness in mournful cries.
Within the calm collective dream of all-inclusive peace on earth the universe emits a beam directing to our own rebirth. May every seedling labor through the obstacles that block our view of fellow feeling born anew.
Before she’s drawn a second breath or viewed her mother’s face, a newborn seeks the breast. No special training’s needed, there’s no test for measuring a baby’s aptitude or mother’s love. The cycle is renewed as fed becomes the feeder, doubly blessed with strength. Instinctively, we all ingest the substance packed in life-sustaining food.
So why should care and feeding of the soul be shrouded in enigma? Through the worst imponderable doubts, our Living Guide extends a standing offer: “Here’s a bowl of hearty stew for free.” And with a burst of sight, the inner cynic’s pacified.
Every night when Lady Luna beams across the wooded steep after daily clamor dwindles and the children fall asleep Emma comes to tend the garden, kiss the flowers, and commune with the fairies, imps, and pixies frolicking beneath the moon.
Emissaries of the spirits spawned before the planet’s birth, Emma and her sisters hover gently on the edge of Earth in the space between confusion over what we’re doing here and The Realm That Knows Forever liberated from the sphere.
She is but a fleeting image of the fiber that connects all the multiverse’s secrets to the path that intersects with the pattern of Creation spreading from a single source, infinite beyond description, dauntless on its chosen course.
Someone waited in the shadows half the night to capture proof in a picture we can study, then she vanished in a poof, so I left this verse for Emma in a scented envelope thanking her for nightly visits sprinkling peace and feeding hope.
Given the sinister nature of tyranny strutting its stuff on the national stage, why should an outbreak of violent rage come as surprise when another atrocity borne on the bullets of deadly velocity massacres hope?
Spare the survivors the further indignity pouring from pundits’ imperious airs, hogging the cameras, offering prayers full of their own brand of blatant hypocrisy. Decency clings to our fragile democracy — throw it a rope!
Bring us some leaders with proven integrity poised to deliver the legal restraints long overdue. As the world reacquaints citizens’ rights with the cry of humanity, carry the flag of compassionate sanity mounting the slope.
A brain cannot absorb more than its mass. I tell myself it helps to let it drain in seeking to achieve a higher plane. How often, wearing blinders, do we pass the Buddha Image in a blade of grass or shun the light beyond the windowpane for fear its pull will render us insane? My will is steel, my spirit tempered glass.
Yet there are times the mind will not be barred from grappling with enigma. Nonchalance won’t turn the key to wisdom or prepare the soul for nourishment. Without regard for tethered cognizance, my psyche wants to conquer obfuscation in the air.
Privacy & Cookies Policy
Necessary cookies are absolutely essential for the website to function properly. This category only includes cookies that ensures basic functionalities and security features of the website. These cookies do not store any personal information.
Any cookies that may not be particularly necessary for the website to function and is used specifically to collect user personal data via analytics, ads, other embedded contents are termed as non-necessary cookies. It is mandatory to procure user consent prior to running these cookies on your website.