When the leaves begin their fire, loves becomes more tangible,
more real to us,
and in the drawing close for warmth
we are encouraged in each other,
with our hearts
able to move forward,
once again.
Poem, and Image, Copyright © 2020 ancient skies
Our peaceflow will restore our sense of who we are,
breathing life back into us,
bringing back visions
of who we want to be,
rebirthing in our spirits,
what we once called…..hope,
strengthening us
within.
Poem, and Image, Copyright © 2020 ancient skies
Note: I’m observing a day of rest starting late this afternoon, for about a day or so. Peace.
As the water falls and we hold on to our sacred space,
where quiet speaks
to that special place,
within our heart of hearts
our desire,
for rest
and renewal.
Wholeness. Amen.
Poem, and Image, Copyright © 2020 ancient skies
Loving peace, we often seek the mountains,
the perfect blend
of earth and blue sky,
not hearing the angels,
yet we become grounded
and hopeful,
finding the strength
to believe again.
Poem, and Image, Copyright © 2020 ancient skies
I like many people, around the world, am beginning a day of rest. Some call it the Sabbath or Shabbat.
No, I wasn’t born Jewish but I really enjoy the concept. It’s liberating really….to have one day a week,
to put everything aside…..and just rest. Renewed, restored and very much alive.
I’ll see you in a day or so.
Peace.
Writing and Image, Copyright © 2020 ancient skies
When I write of the dark now, the enfolding, the pouring in of midnight, I’m not referring to evil, the seeking to destroy, the choking of our humanity, with talons extended,
or even of the darkness of our anointed narcissist, screaming so sadly of his insanity, supported by the prayers of some of the faithful, often confused, and sometimes worse…
no, I write of that dark comfort, stillness enfolding into us, like twilight wrapping us, holding us,
a silence of the heart…where we sometimes go, where stars live….still clinging to the night, watching over us,
over the deepest parts of us….causing even our scars to bow down, hoping for release,
like when birds awaken, praying, fighting sleep, to greet the dawn. It’s OK to go quiet during the rebirth of wings,
instead of leaving our spirits shredded, left in ruins. We don’t have to accept ourselves wearing a reality of dark wings trembling.
We do know the way, don’t we?
Poem, and Image, Copyright © 2020 ancient skies
With the wind in my hair, and a prayer song overflowing,
I made my way
to the top of the mountain,
embracing
all things.
I became new again.
Poem, and Image, Copyright © 2020 ancient skies
Leaves dance to the rhythm of the rain, while tree limbs sway and I realize,
something within me enjoys the wildness of the storm, thunder rolls and boils in the sky,
yet I’m not afraid, instead…amazed how creation nourishes the earth, as the rain becomes gentle again.
Poetry, and Image © Copyright 2020, ancient skies
Silver threads of the lake at dawn,
with whispers of deliverance
to awaken,
to transform the grey
to a startling blue,
and the beginning
of birdsong.
Poetry, and Image © Copyright 2020, ancient skies
The white blur of wings descending,
following the infinite line
of two blues converging,
as rocks on the shore count
the rhythm of waves.
He leans against a pine tree
and closes his eyes,
focusing
on a prayer.
Seagull wings.
Poetry, and Image © Copyright 2020, ancient skies
