{ You can listen to my recitation of this piece at Podbean – Falling }

Writing flow from down below that rises to the top like cream from the heart of life as dream, and into the flow we tend to go yet try to swim instead of float, allow ourselves to be the boat that is the bobbing star of splendor on the gentle waters and we wonder: here we go, up like a geyser then fall like rain, up and out, then down again.

BougainvilleaClose032814The sleep of heavy tired lids on a pot that’s full and overcooked—skim the burn off the top and let the cream of sweetness dream into the moment stillness calling, then we are once more falling into the space of a moment’s grace that holds us all … to pause. Read the tea leaves of the morning and their message is a warning to go among the rocks and breathe their ancient calm … receive.

Hear the sighs of plants around, from high above us into the ground telling of their wisdom reaching far into the heart of what we’re seeking. The listening is what comes mysterious unto the pause. Gifts of healing from the plants and stones and all the energetic tomes unwritten in the human hand but held like dreams within the land as closing our eyes we hear and see the healing of our own mystery that we mistook for penitence is really the whole gift of innocence strung along with beads and feathers, a shaman’s touch, a priestess calls, a heart no more alone … falls.

Among my vision without sight is balance of the dark and light into the chants of ancient voice I hear the gift of truth and choice. We think so much we drown the sound of whispered magic earth caves lush along the squishy forest path where roots abound and fairies laugh.

We think they’re false because we’re blind when all we have to do is find the strength to pull the cloth from off our eyes and there! See! A great surprise! Within the space is twinkling light vibrating on the sacred night, entwined like lovers ever true, the gift of you! Play the flute and call the wind, for here we are upon a land that blesses us with heaven’s gate and all we are is in our own fated ways of journey, travel, hear and see the beauty, love and majesty of all diversity.

Falling off the edge of sleeping where the hawk soars and the bear snores and the cougar stealthy creeps along the very edge of the shores and woods at timberline between reality and the world divine unseen except by those who fly between so easily with their colored skins of rainbow trout and acorn hats that dance about and bring the rain and tumbled stones that soothe the pain of those alone who cannot see or hear.

Rivers flow all around and we can see them, where they’re bound to send us dancing to and fro, a journey where we cannot know. Upon the land is my heart beating, thumping, pause and pound, here is where I’m happily bound, not to go some other place, or transcend away from Gaia’s Grace.

Here, now, present, free, the land is you and me … Unity.

6 thoughts on “Falling

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