Story telling

Midway through the story

we pause.

Try and rewind but no.

The story stops for certain.

What continuation there is

is simply what passes as time.

Segments. Phrases.

Blobs of words. Appear. Die. Live.

It's hard to say nowadays.

Letting words fall where they may.

Silence is my better friend.

All the shouting and screaming that went on

might as well have been in vain as the thoughts that raced before them.

Choosing the non-word seems sensible. Not even the visual,

not the sleep, not the sound. What remains, is. But what is it?

What does silence feel like?

What does it actually say?

easter matter

Less and less

is there a need for rituals

the refinement of existing in this place

is enough to move and be in joy.

The firmer the desire for anchoring

oneself to a requirement,

the more solely it serves the purpose of ego and false safety.

Quietude is the only thing that really sustains.

Listen to the space that envelops.

The stardust that whispers sweet nothings.

No easter egg can hold the richness

and the vastness of the Being discovered.

The easter bunny disappeared in the distance.

The cross that was borne is long cast.

A story unwritten only matters

as it newly takes shape in the soul right now.

No need to follow anywhere.

No need to set standards, hold a banner or tighten a grip.

If anything...

it's all done. It's all been. It becomes again as you wish it.

today is the day

I consider every day to be the most important.

When cuddling my cat I hear her musings of content.

She only cares to be loved, to be warm, to be fed.

Simplicity and serenity lie in the arms of friendship. 

Being happy with what is

and rejoicing the love that is with us, today.

Some blessings are eternal, some are fleeting.

Whether we can find a friend or not: remember to purr every day.

The rustling

Pulled and pushed and adjusted

my center of being was muffled and condensed.

Only in sleep could I return

to desired solitude to rest.

I waited for clarity to come

and no solution came.

No messenger in day

no sense at night.

To simply act without a cause

seems relentlessly sad and stupid.

I watch mostly as days unfold

Yet speak my mind as I see it.

What wish have I

which direction to pursue in longer days.

Once again I listen and enjoy the spaces

the in-betweens stretching out, unseen.

I cannot see yet I can feel a rustling.

The nearing of truth is what will do.

Skulking shadows of what was me lurk still.

I stand in the grass. Waiting for the reminder to return.

the silence

words being said

that might as well have been unspoken

hanging

in the air, waiting and halted

then

erased by being obsolete

the story matters

more then the grammar.

I have chosen to wait

it can be more useful

to not say anything

but let the thought sit quietly

then softly

there's a breath of word released

a sound of being expressed

the tender unfolding of speech.

the sentences become

flowing in song

fluffy as goat hair

loving in caress once more.

the bridge

There is a bridge

but instead of one there are many

and you can cross as many as you want

at the same time in the same space

in the same timezone

all at once

The bridge of swords

is a pledge to self to grow

to aspire to learning, being, rediscovering

it becomes simple once you decide

to 'lose the mind' and follow the heart

again

In the becoming of you

which is simply a bigger version

of who you you thought you were before

the download increases

and the anticipated Mayan calendar of ending

is replaced by truth,

your old reality replaced by a bigger one

to see straight through every version

and your discernment increases

look not just around you

but you might as well look inside you

cleaning up your old homework

releasing what does not serve you

and embracing what truly is

is the only thing that will matter to you

look!

The bridge of swords

is the bridge of souls

becoming entwined and remembering abilities

forgotten, long ago

when you were here before.

Now you're back you are

an honored guest

you find scrolls inside you will read

and weep at the memory of what was

yet find what has now arrived.

Aspire to not the quest

not the thought

but the love abounding.

No need to run, to chase after anything.

It's all here right now in this place.

There you are.

Hello good friend.

We are here together

on the bridge

in all directions.

Walk while we meet up once more.

the turkeys

In the light

the male turkeys dance

they prance and jest, they fluff and huff loudly

until one has had enough and turns round, dashing off

to some food that looks interesting

or to monitor a chook that is scurrying for worms

the lady turkeys

are busy too, two are nesting,

one other is young and restless

and one is recovering from a ferret wound

yet all reside in the green, looking happy

being together

in the here and now

where food is abundant and company plentiful

peace reigns

and the male turkeys gobble

looking up at the sun

shaking their feathers

poking up their fluffy bums to the sky

memo

Did you feel it?

The memo I sent you?

That I love you.

Now and always.

My heart is your heart.

Our hearts are connected to the

Global Heart that is beating.

Hurting. Crying. Celebrating. Growing. Expanding.

A heart can do many things.

It beats evermore. It remembers.

Did you get the memo

that I intend to spread my love around?

Not like the old days

where you were suspected of betrayal in doing so,

but of sharing the heart, generating the

power of the heart

uploading the wisdom we all share

together in the Wholesome Heart?

The heart is strong

The heart is wise.

It will tell tales from truth

It will follow it's own strength

of you.

Of me.

Of all hearts. In time to come.

the two brothers

the two brothers walked

the two brothers talked.

there was silence.

worry spread over their faces.

one spoke the other listened.

more silence.

they changed positions so the other spoke

and the first one listened.

heads put together.

the sharing of nods and mood.

assessment of the situation

that was very grave indeed.

a conclusion was reached.

a proposal forged.

the moods lightened.

smiles came out as lunch was served.

blessed be

(for Margreet)

departure time

is timeless, although the death is timely

and soulprints are left on this earth

stored as memories below

walking her story on her ground

it had reached the final paragraph

and today, the epitaph.

I remember.

I recall the days I stayed

at your farmhouse for a number of days

and we spoke most..

in silence. The days I see as sunny.

You came to visit me today

and you looked well and are so happy.

Now that you are reunited with your love

and can walk your dog in peace once more.

And we weep not for those

who leave their bodies and continue

on the greatest marvel of a path

that stretches out in all directions. All at once.

Blessed be, lady of the woods.

I may see you again, another time.