The miracle is waiting…art work by Colin Hall

How often I have heard1508565_523165791115493_1707556079_n nuce

I am waiting for a miracle?

What if, the miracle is already here?

Just waiting…for you to be aware of it.

Just waiting…for you to discover it.

Just waiting…for you to accept it.

Just waiting….for you

to take the action to help make it happen.

Just waiting…for you to surrender and find it.

The miracle is waiting.

 Deep within you to be found. 

1461212_523134607785278_115724229_n nuce 2Miracles are not around the corner.  

Not over the next bridge.  

Miracles are within you.

 Bring it on.

 Bring it forward.

I do not believe in miracles.  

I depend on them. 

Time upon a once, or once upon a time?

Astronomical Clock (Astronomical Dial), Prague...

Time upon a once, in the days of old…

There was a body, who grew restless,

felt more of the  cold.

It had less and less  knowledge

of things of the past.

It had less and less knowledge

of things that did not last.

 It took to sleeping

at the most awkward of times:

At the computer, or doing the dishes…

or writing a rhyme

once even while shopping

the five and dime.

It spent Its time under the Sun,

in the land of dreams….

where we are all one.  

It was more and more,

in every passing day..

More like Soul…

more full of play.

 Society labelled It,

while It slept.

 They said it was aging.

 They said it was inept.

Little they knew

How much it took to forget

Who Soul had been

How not to regret

How much it all felt like a lie

They were told they were dying

When they were in reality

really becoming more and more alive.

This holy fire became more  intense

as the old one slept, joy jumped the fence.   

It planted the seeds

of love in its very depth.

 It nurtured and grew them

on each chance of sleep.  

Then the day came…

when love burst forth.

The old one was labelled “insane”.  

They laughed at life

with its pain and strife.

They met all challenges

with laughter and mirth.

They danced in the rain,

they rolled in the snow.

What would it take

for the old one to know,

that they were foolish?

that they had no tact!

no one of culture,

 would act like that!

 What would it take

for the critics to know

the deep abiding  love shared by the aging one

with everyone, whenever,  wherever they go?

Time upon a once, or once upon a time

you will come to know,

the things of which I speak.

when it your time to glow in 

the wisdom of the ancients hidden in this rhyme. 

Sextant
Sextant (Photo credit: mcarpentier)

Winner wonderland…artistry by Colin Hall

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There is a battle raging

within the physical body  with the  cold.

1469897_517979288300810_78784646_n (1)ch

Where the dreams of tomorrow

meet the with the challenges of old.

I am hiding out in the mountains….

until the healing comes.

I am buried under the snowbank….

basking in the sun.

“I am always in the learning from the cosmic sea.

1461381_512809568817782_138859729_nI am always with you“*

*quote from Harold Klemp

....are the Creator`s words to me.

So although the mind wants to read

the title of this poem,

as winter wonderland…

I need it to read Winner wonderland,

as I delight in my Journey home.

993748_515  CH 1235

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Invocation with Colin Hall visuals

999785_517139025051503_1065259510_n

Across the river, and through the glen,  

there are places ,we have always been. 

Where your thoughts are safe

and your dreams come true.

I am heading there….
May I ask you
To join me there?

Across the river, 

through the glen.

to places where993748_515  CH 1235

our love has always been.

Blessings to you

and yours as you

celebrate the joy

of life for another day. 

 

Invocation  with Colin Hall visuals

The Dancer’s Star Blanket

Blue Star Quilt

 

Across the ages she has come 

 

to dance, to love and laugh

 

“Her laughter,” the old ones say “is too loud.

 

Her feet do not pound the earth as others do.”

 

But her heart dances on

 

and she gives the love

 

Keeping her promise is all that she knew.

 

She needed to learn more.

 

She thirsted for the knowledges

 

in every leaf and rock.

 

She annoyed every one

 

with her searching for the search.

 

She burped and farted…they mocked.

 

No one ever knew

 

the courage it took to ask.

 

No one ever knew

 

her deep love for Mother Earth.

 

No one ever knew

 

her deep abiding love

 

for the Creator.

 

Until they saw her last dance.

 

She knew.

 

She laughed.  

 

She burped and she farted.

 

When the competition was over…

 

The young ones, were surprised

 

that they were asked to join

 

in the making of her star blanket.

 

The old ones, smiled and said…

 

“Just because she did not win in the competition

 

Does not mean, that the prayers stop.”

 

The blanket was made amid laughter and tears.

 

They knew she was dying…there was no fear.

 

When the time comes

 

the old dancer will be wearing  

 

her star blanket

 

as she dances her way home.

Lone Star Quilts

 

Susan Allen, thanks for your loving service

Instruments from Ecuador's northern highlands
Instruments from Ecuador’s northern highlands (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Instruments
Instruments (Photo credit: ransomtech)

I want to thank you for

Your dedication , determination

Devotion of  love through service

In the arts, music and song.

You give my  life a deeper purpose,

a mission, a meaning

I can hear you singing

in my heart

all day long.

In the tiny chapel,

 you trained and laboured

You practiced tirelessly by the hour.

Your voice  to me a heavenly choir.

At-one-moment,

your Spirit took flight.

The song  came alive in your voice.

This is Your Brain on Music
This is Your Brain on Music (Photo credit: brewbooks)

The pitch,  the tone,

the melody  were perfect .

Just  right. 

Then ,

your loving devotion shone through…

as together we rejoiced. 

I began to listen…

falling deeper into the tone

I floated deep within the song.

I was no longer alone. 

My spirit soared.

My joy along.

I want to thank you for your beauty

your devotion to your craft

as you sing your song. 

You have given me a gift of love…

I feel I should ask for your autograph.

Before,

 the world comes crowding in.

Before,stradivarius_ex_nachez

the fame takes you away.

I want to thank you

for being an instrument of healing…

deep within my heart today. 

 

My Spiritual Son with artistry by Colin Hall

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I knew him by Sight,
You had Guided him Home.
He stood for the Right…
Never more to roam.
He “fought the good fight”
It was now time to rest.
He came to have tea.
My Heart is so Blessed.
He has rested.
Been refreshed.
Goes to help others.
He has stood the great Test.

Mary Helen Ferris

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Slipping out the back door…

English: Gates of Paradise, by Ghiberti. Batti...
English: Gates of Paradise, by Ghiberti. Battistero di San Giovanni (Florence). (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
English: A decorated door from the Tibetan Nam...
English: A decorated door from the Tibetan Namdroling monastery, southern India. Date: December, 2003 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Do you remember at the summer dance

Holding hands with your first romance?

How you longed to slip out the back door.

Well, for me I feel like that.

I do not want to leave in a thunder’s roar.

I want to go…in silence out the back door.

I am ready.

There are no bags to pack.

I am not certain

I have completed my mission.

It is that knowledge I lack.

But like the Man said

“If you are wearing skin

and not a pair of wings

You best be serving Source

until your death knell rings.”

So, upon a winter day I ponder

Have I done all I came to do?

How long will it be

till that sacred back door

comes into view?

What kindness have I forgotten?

What service can I give?

I know I have so much to learn

Your direction I shall not spurn.

So,  beloved Source,  let me

practice your presence,

Giving love  in all I say and do. 

Till I slip out the back door to be with You. 

English: It is a wooden door used in rural Punjab.
English: It is a wooden door used in rural Punjab. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

 

 

 

Roman folding doors from the Villa of the Myst...
Roman folding doors from the Villa of the Mysteries in Pompeii. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)