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Prophecy

In the dawning of time
man was no speck of dust,
not even a glimmer in Divine’s eye,
until life was breathed into light
and awareness into cellular dust,
fledgling gods dispatched to distant worlds
to wear foreign masks,
engage in sacrilegious battles
for wholeness and peace,
to conquer universes,
to love and give,
receive and forgive,
wage wars with self
and tear down walls of difference ,
fuel the sting of creation sorrow,
create that which is loved most,
send it soaring into freedom,
not knowing how or when it may return,
to fulfill the fate of immortal time

©SpiritLed


Hope

The full moon hangs heavy
in the sky just before dawn
pregnant with the weight
of new beginning
a mystical ball of way-showing light
that speaks in silence
to the many who clamor to kneel
before its placement in the heavens
a throne of ruby-ringed stardust
and a thousand twinkling courtiers
bleed across the darkened canvas
of the mind’s eye
in the holy sanctum
of the soul
where heart light resides
in a private universe
charged with the promise
of Hope

©SpiritLed 2014


The Time is Near

Angel heart

The time is near when you will hear the whisper
when you will heed the song
when you will throw your pretense to the sky
and let you heart wander free

free to release the stirrings inside
hold them in peace and give them light to grow

free to open to the connection
that is your birthright,  your Divine gift
your alter to the Source of unconditional love
you can’ t lose it, it’s inside you

The time is near when you will feel,
allow yourself to be cut in order to experience the light
instead of always running into the arms of darkness
trying to numb out the lightest sting

One day you will call on us
and we will be your heavenly beacon
your burning light of refuge
as you make your way through this life

The time is near
The time is near

©SpiritLed 2014


God-Filled Cracks

Pristine ocean waves
call you to places you’ve never
dared to go, places inside
your mind where the light

burns bright and exposes
all your sullen and dingy
thoughts on god and why
he doesn’t show up in your life

more often, compels you to examine
under the force of the pounding waves
your acts of defiance
in the name of self-preservation

but which self is still unclear,
despite the microscope and
operating table where you can
carefully dissect and then put

the pieces back together
stitch by stitch, like a Frankenstein
doll with a porcelain heart,
stuck together with tacky glue

that is only guaranteed for a few years
and after that who knows what happens
to those shattered pieces?
Do they break apart and float,

getting lodged in the crevices?
Or do they simply disintegrate
as if they never existed?
You think the glue will hold

because you always were naïve
and the patched up parts
are your religion, the glue-filled
cracks where you find your god

SpiritLed 2014


Every Human Being Is An Artist – Inspirational Quotations, Don M.Ruiz

E.D.:

 

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The dream of the planet is the dream of all humans together. We can call it society, we can call it a nation, but the result of the creation of the mind, individual and collective, is a dream. The dream can be a pleasant dream that we call heaven, or it can be a nightmare that we call hell.. But heaven and hell only exist at the level of the mind..

~Don Miguel Ruiz

Originally posted on Children Of Light.:

You tube  with quotes from Prayers, A Communion With Our Creator -Don M.Ruiz

 

Moving to some light reading on the blog today, I’ve decided to post one of my favourite passages from  “Prayers – A Communion With Our Creator,”  by Don Miguel Ruiz. I love this little book of homilies and always keep it on my desk by the side of the computer. Don has a writing style that hits  at the heart and opens it through his loving words. I could have chosen to write the passage from the book on “Love” for it is beautifully witten,  but instead, after the story-telling effort of my previous post, I’ve decided to write instead on “Humans As Artists” and Story-Tellers, because that is what we are. The great teacher Nisargadatta Maharaj once said this: “To expound and propagate concepts is simple, to drop all concepts is difficult and rare.”  I…

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Divinity Entombed

Entrance to Sousse catacombs flooded with light

In the morning you look like every other
sinner, makeup smeared, hair unkempt,
heart heavy with the bloody dawn of forgiveness

For last you went to Sunday School
the preacher warned, “Remember,
everyone’s a sinner”, even 10-year-old
girls with pigtails and lofty dreams,

and you swallowed hard again the accusation
cloaked in kindness, accepting the wafer with a
clutching sense of panic that hell
might befall you if you do partake, and
most especially if you don’t

Heaven became a destination,
a sought-after paradise unobtainable
amidst your sureness that there is no
eternal story, your suspicion that even you
might not be real

And in this darkness welled a great sorrow,
a longing which cried to fling itself to freedom,
in this solitude laid a song, mimicking
the mournful wail of birds at dawn

Beneath skin stretched translucent,
intertwined with bone and sinew,
muscles, fat, and pulsing organs
deep within the essence of you, lies the
realness that you seek, the ghostly ghastly
spirit soul, your divinity entombed

Go now, and wrestle free from your human skin,
allow the light of your eternal being to permeate
the darkness of your soul

©SpiritLed 2014


April Fool

I’m no April fool, but I thought
I heard you say, a hundred years
ago, that life would be easy,
the games we play would be more
sophisticated, but they would still be
fun, that the little cracks that form
as we navigate the boundaries ,
would not transform into gaping,
boundless caverns, but instead creep
clouds of light into every moment
and remind us that we are who
we’re supposed to be

no, that was just imagined, for
so many times this seems to be
the definitive experience of
guileless courage, a hazy fog of hapless
misunderstandings, lethargic
ramblings of a maddened soul

even if the words don’t make sense,
leak out all the roiling emotion you keep
so tidy on the shelf of self-control,
dump the contents in a scattered and
untidy heap in a way such that only you
can sort through and make any logic
from the chaos, organized and classified
from appropriate to downright crazy,
go ahead and dive right in,
flounder in the helpless overwhelm that
cleanses the creative palate

even if the madman in your mind
claims that you will never heal
the wounds that reside inside,
sleeping just beneath the surface,
reaching up to reveal the tender parts,
then retreating to leave doubt and
revelation in their wake

even as the walls begin to tumble
down, as you sink, rising and falling
soaring and tumbling through
the cycles that bring you near
perfection then catapult you
out into the shadows where
the grey gloom hovers, seeps inside,
fills the cavernous holes

even there in the most violent and
torrential path, truth is revealed,
sears the heart like streaks of dust
across the cloudy window pane
from which you peer with silent
anticipation and lonely longing
to see the light and rise up
to your rightful place
at the throne of your own life

©SpiritLed 2014

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