I taste a liquor never brewed —
From Tankards scooped in Pearl —
Not all the Vats upon the Rhine
Yield such an Alcohol!
Inebriate of Air — am I —
And Debauchee of Dew —
Reeling — thro endless summer days —
From inns of Molten Blue —
When “Landlords” turn the drunken Bee
Out of the Foxglove’s door —
When Butterflies — renounce their “drams” —
I shall but drink the more!
Till Seraphs swing their snowy Hats —
And Saints — to windows run —
To see the little Tippler
Leaning against the — Sun —
~ Emily Dickinson (#214 Johnson)
——————-and here is where I’m led …
Hummingbird, I do journey within you, spirits one, and witness through your eyes the breathless sweetness of the maze among the willowy stems in skies that are the background of the joy in midst of pollen’s sister found. Use the blessings of the sun to warm and kindle doing, while open broad expanse of wings so feathers light upon the air will fly and journey, to distant places, unfamiliar faces reflected in my own shy smile that wishes pleasant day while we play among the shadows cast by self when body is the tallest tree among the wild and free sweep of land I hold within my hand as dust and mud and peat to fan the fire within a damp and windy landscape treat.
What echo will engage my heart, what Voice will whisper true of bagpipes lowing in the hills and harps do sing high notes between the dew long fallen now returned as have I from centuries past — home at least to heal the life of sharp demise that I once saw through closed eyes … A cabin tidy, neat and small, dragged am I outside the wall where life did fall with anger cast upon my sill so other’s will was power hungry force and laid waste upon mine. Heart did fail and fear replace the pulse across the strands of time, to be mirrored in a face that harbors melancholy steeped like too-strong tea, to heal the wrong done to me.
The past is gone and here I sit within the beautiful present — Gift. Release those ties, say good-bye to memories trapped in cells of ancestral habitat — the land heals, pressing against bare feet, an instant to retrace what casts the place into transformation.
I am the winged one that walks, the silent soul through scripting talks, the contradiction in reverse to heal the heart and precious Be among the souls who care for me and I for them … reciprocal in love. Spirals going back in time to heal with quickly glowing elementals chime the bells and raise the glass to toast a remnant of one’s past in honor go … far away!
How to “lean against the Sun” without singe to wings? By swimming in nectar, dew, and well-spring of infinite soul that blesses me in this new life removed from past in order to heal — to know the sun will not harm such ones who don’t alarm themselves in resistance but rather recognize its presence; gift of light essence and hollow cave will join together souls to save for often in the journey’s trail we find our very Holy Grail is really our Chalice overflowing, always abundant rich with knowing. Fire and Water dance from the Air, from a kiss on Goddess lips into the mist, into the damp, find the nectar and the dew in dawn’s delight where few have swum of late.
By example do I step upon the path to swing the gate and leave my house for temporary need, away I go to hear Her Voice divinely guiding me. Some would say that intuition leads this one astray into imagination where demons are at play. Yet I know false these rumors bee-like-stingers left behind and feel the joy of freeing mind to fly the sky with Thee. Hummingbird, please clear my vision with Goddess’ wings that blur the present moment — tip! — the past comes flashing into focus to be healed and set free — sing! Sing our inner tune unrepentant on the breeze, a melody that lifts us up then brings us to our knees in prayers of gratitude.
Gaia is our Home where all my wanders are from home to home for there is no single place to call the one and only — that creates a heart so lonely — rather see diversity across the sea, within all lands, and heal to Unity. Abundant is the trail of travel and repose to take me into Gaia’s arms where healing always flows. Back, back, that is the wisdom for moving into present Grace from Gaia’s Gifts.
Among the trees is where I’ll be if only deep in roots of ancient groves once thick with Celtic wisdom. Imagine the stories lying far beneath the surface of what once was and can be again. All will grow in the energy that is All. See? There is no end and only we prevent the abundance — Eden is here. Imagine!
The doors flung wide inside, the windows have no pains — clear as a pure heart.