thank You,

lots of love and light Kristina

Another day is dawning
Wind is humming low
Silver light of morning
casts a gentle glow
Slowly sound of waking
echoes through the trees.
Ripples stir the lake with kisses
from a breeze.
It must have been the same
when the first morning dawned.
When through the mist there came
bright rays from the sun.
What eyes looked up in wonder?
What ears first heard the sound -
sea waves, rolling thunder -
and winds that swept the ground

Now comes another morning
blessing fields of earth.
Throughout the light of dawning,
runs music of rebirth!

Have we no ears to hear it?
Have we no heart to sing -
Sweet songs of the spirit
for newness morning brings

It is a new beginning
and it happens everyday
another chance for winning
and chasing doubt away
Let us have the heart to give!
Let us have songs to sing now
that bless the life we live!!!

Love and Peace to all
Kristina  xxx

In the Kindness of Sleep

I visited you last night when you
were sleeping with a child's abandon.
Curled so casual in sheets
inlaid by your beauty.
I held my hand to your face
and touched as gently
as I know how
so you could linger with your dreams.
I heard soft murmurs that only angels make
when they listen to their home.
So I drew my hand away
uneasy that I might wake you
even as gentle as I was.

But you stayed with your dreams
and I watched as they found their way to you
in the kindness of sleep.
And I dreamed that I was an echo of your body
curled beside you like a fortune hunter
who finally found his gold.
I nearly wept at the sound of your breath,
but I stayed quiet as a winter lake, and bit my lip
to ensure I wouldn't be detected.

I didn't want to intrude
so I set my dream aside
and I gently pulled your hand from underneath
the covers to hold.
A hand whose entry into flesh
must have been the lure that brought me here.
And as I hold it
I remember why I came
to feel your pulse
and the beating of your heart in deep slumber.
And I remember why I came in the
kindness of sleep --
to hold your hand, touch your face
and listen to the soft breathing
of an angel,
curled so casual in sheets
inlaid by your beauty.

~ Wingmakers ~



And, of course my abiding love.......


The Guest House

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
As an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

~ Rumi ~

Great Spirit

Great Spirit,
give us hearts to understand;
Never to take from creation's beauty more than we give;
Never to destroy wantonly for the furtherance of greed;
Never to deny to give our hands for the building of earth's beauty;
Never to take from her what we cannot use.

Give us hearts to understand
That to destroy earth's music is to create confusion;
That to wreck her appearance is to blind us to beauty;
That to callously pollute her fragrance is to make a house of stench;
That as we care for her she will care for us.

We have forgotten who we are.
We have sought only our own security.
We have exploited simply for our own ends.
We have distorted our knowledge.
We have abused our power.

Great Spirit, whose dry lands thirst,
help us to find the way to refresh your lands.

Great Spirit, whose waters are choked with debris and pollution,
help us to find the way to cleanse your waters.

Great Spirit, whose beautiful earth grows ugly with mis-use,
help us to find the way to restore beauty to your handiwork.

Great Spirit, whose creatures are being destroyed,
help us to find a way to replenish them.

Great Spirit, whose gifts to us are being lost
in selfishness and corruption,
help us to find the way to restore our humanity.

I also really like this poem. The true original source is debated. I heard the story that it was found scratched onto a prison cell wall after a prisoner was taken for execution but others contribute it to other sources with slightly different wording and title. Either way, it is a very powerful reminder to us all:

The Man in the Mirror

When you get what you want in your struggle for self
And the world makes you king for a day
Then go to the mirror and look at yourself
And see what that man has to say.

For it isn't a man’s father, mother or wife
Whose judgment upon him must pass
The fellow whose verdict counts most in his life
Is the man staring back from the glass.

He's the fellow to please, never mind all the rest
For he's with you clear up to the end
And you've passed your most dangerous, difficult test
If the man in the glass is your friend.

You can fool the whole world down the pathway of years
And get pats on the back as you pass
But your final reward will be heartache and tears
If you've cheated the man in the glass.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Can be applied to men and women, pretty powerful and very true.
 

In a Dark Time

In a dark time, the eye begins to see,
I meet my shadow in the deepening shade;
I hear my echo in the echoing wood--
A lord of nature weeping to a tree,
I live between the heron and the wren,
Beasts of the hill and serpents of the den.

What's madness but nobility of soul
At odds with circumstance? The day's on fire!
I know the purity of pure despair,
My shadow pinned against a sweating wall,
That place among the rocks--is it a cave,
Or winding path? The edge is what I have.

A steady storm of correspondences!
A night flowing with birds, a ragged moon,
And in broad day the midnight come again!
A man goes far to find out what he is--
Death of the self in a long, tearless night,
All natural shapes blazing unnatural light.

Dark,dark my light, and darker my desire.
My soul, like some heat-maddened summer fly,
Keeps buzzing at the sill. Which I is I?
A fallen man, I climb out of my fear.
The mind enters itself, and God the mind,
And one is One, free in the tearing wind.

~ Theodore Roethke ~

I like to lie back in the heather,
And tickle your.....

wrong venue!

xoxoxo