She Sang To Me
I stand suspended in seed form waiting, watching, wondering and pondering feeling a new surge of energy as olde as the cosmic wheel spinning into infinity. Such beauty in this silence, held by some dexterous kind hand. A knowing balm. A watcher, an observer of my inner refrain. My countenance is moved by this one. A deep psychic strand to a greater web of light. My inner gaze sees a greater vista without. We are all connected. The Soul's embers sing to me an even older story. Who is the story teller? The bardic songs sing out and sing on drifting and wafting great aeonic notions of potent metaphor and allegory. We are so blessed.! We ARE the children of light, sound and immense spiritual wealth. So sing on and sing out in a re-remembrance tone of renewing grace. Aho in deed and So Mote It Be!
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