Bless the ancient relics
and hold tight the gold… the gold…
Sacred words echo hollow… hollow…
and fall flat to the ground…
Not one of ours!
Not one of ours!
Compassion is big business.
Don’t ask too much… too much…
Line up
and wait your turn… your turn…
Lucky Tax Breaks
or Sad Statistics…
God looks at us
through every…every…
starving face…
Well, you say,
it isn’t me and mine!
The world is tired
of pleas and please…
Too many of us anyway! …too many…
Let’s have another War…
Use up the ammo
so we can make some more.
Kill ‘em all, the bastards!
you say…
No, leave a few… a few…
…cheap labor…
…consumer demand…
Human need
fast turns to greed… greed…
God reaches out
with every begging hand…
Well, you say,
it isn’t me and mine!
Ah! But it is. It is!
The wise ones know… know…
It Is! It Is! It Is!
Those Held Dear (my digital music composition) We weep the loss of those held dear.
We hold their memory with our tears,
with flowers and stones
that honour their names,
releasing their bodies to earth,
to water, to air, and to flames.
We note the dates of their birth and death
with comforting words to those they’ve left.
Were they loving? Were they kind?
What were the things they left behind?
How did they define their life and worth?
We celebrate and mourn with grief,
repeating inherited or chosen beliefs
as words of power to banish fear
in knowing our turn, too, is drawing near.
Were we loving? Were we kind?
What were the things we left behind?
What defined our values and our worth
co-creating our life on Earth?
I sit in the cemetery’s morning light
watching such a heart-welcomed sight.
Three brave and gentle, beautiful deer
quietly approach me, ever so near.
I send them feelings of joy and peace,
finding freedom in cares release.
I share their calm presence, so gentle, so brave.
They feed on wildflowers growing on graves.
I share their gift of Here and Now,
no longer concerned by when or how
the stories of our lives will end.
This Present draws me gently in
to that ever still and timeless space within-
into the Light I see so clearly-
into the Love I hold so dearly-
Communion, Compassion, and Mystery.
No one is separate, forsaken, alone
for this Light is pure Love and Light is our Home.
Space and Time are wonder-filled Life at play
creating magic everywhere, everyday.
Space-time is fabric woven of Life Itself,
interwoven, vibrating Energy
creating Experience, experiencing all,
All That Is Itself, Its glorious Self.
Everything is expanding Consciousness.
Life moves and creates and feels through us-
the Observer that sees behind our eyes, all eyes-
the Divine in everyday, common disguise.
Everything is Source Energy-
different frequencies, varying degrees
of evolving Awareness-
even all that seems dead and inert
like mountains, rocks, sand, and dirt.
We watch to see how things behave-
disappearing particles, dancing waves-
surprising evidence appearing strange.
We jump the boundaries of our Age.
All Matter is Energy in a Process divine.
Form and Energy are One in Truth sublime,
yet forms do ever change and disappear
so we weep the loss of those held dear.
I feel grateful and humble as I can be,
enjoying this morning’s company
of silent deer and thoughts of those held dear.
But they’ve gone beyond and are not here.
I walk through clouds
and fog within
coming to where
I’d often been
over and over
then off again
in new directions
in search yet again…
Why can’t I see Them?
I follow faint whiffs
of long forgotten fragrances
worn by Answers long ago
in places I know not where…
I follow ghostly whispers
of words once said…
Haunting echoes of emotions
thought aeons dead
linger in Mystery’s misty air…
Beyond my sight
the Answers call
to search and search
behind Appearance
beneath Circumstance
above Prejudice
open, accepting and grateful
to stand before Them…
Though I reach and reach
They are still not there…
I shall not cease
till Time’s Ever-Present Past
grasps me firmly in the Soul’s clear light
of Recognition and Remembrance
when Answers’ names and truths
will be revealed and known to me at last!!!
My friend, what do we really know?
Even though cut, the Tulips grow.
I wonder how they dance and bow
from their Stage of water in a vase
to our delight and our applause.
They give us such a lively Show,
their Tulip Life, before they go…
Dying Flowers, how do they grow?
Shelley Wilson
April 8, 2013
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