The Prayer Stone

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In search of the prayer stone this morning, there were no ancient sages whispering mystical words from the dark corners of the forest.

And the sun was dull at times, as clouds ceased the calling of flowers, even their strength was diminished. Shadows prevailed.

I closed my eyes, waiting…..and then a glimpse of a word. So I decided to write a poem today…..after all.

    

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies

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Where Our Dreams Are

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On the trails….down by the lake where we used to know

our unsaid prayers, where

our dreams are still cared for

oak leaves will guide us

by their strength,

so that we can find

who we once were,

in that place we use to call

free.

     

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies

Within the Thunder

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I wonder, does God get angry within the thunder? Or is it simply a matter of heat vs. cool air?

Last night I watched the rain from our porch, as if waiting for a revelation,

but it was only a downpour, pounding on the streets, driven by wind.

If God spoke……I didn’t hear Him…….at least, not this time.

     

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies