Greetings, Thank You

Good morning, Morning Star! Humble greetings to your majesty, Sol,
Reigning so high in the sky, bathing now this side of gentle Gaia
In radiant light, so iconic of Light everlasting.

Fare thee well, most lovely Luna, sweet Selene of the night sky,
Mother of luminescence in dark, our stark reminder that the Light
Never dies, but shows forth Beauty even in shadows.

Salve cara terram, celestial orb who gently sails round Father Sun;
Saludos a usted, dearest Gaia, upon whose breasts we feed and live,
So many small children sometimes so reckless.

Another morning bathed in beams under canopy of blue-grand Coelum…

Thank You and Greetings … Greetings!


Shadow Bard

Luteguy_8227It’s hard, sitting in the darkness, playing shadow bard;
Staying in my place, moving like an eel ~ slime pace ~
Singing another low song, to save face, amid the throng
Of easy ego-pleasers with no wrong turn, too bad to burn,
To dense to learn; help me Eloise! I but aim to please!

It’s hard watching ’em die, while I play shadow bard;
Up and down, turn around, cause it’s bound to get wild
As the sound of my flute dances so freely in the air;
Better wear your best mask, cause it’s my task to stay
And play, yours to suck it up, cause you’re stuck here. . .

Here, there, everywhere, I stay to play shadow bard;
From the dark with haunting music, taunting lyrics,
And flaunting sound that hounds your everlasting soul.
Pick up the bowl, lick the cherry, let the juice stick
In your mouth; be merry! I’m the shadow bard . . .

Shadow Bard

Sélená and Secrets of Life: Astonishing Revelation

Bright light of full moon soon took shape before my eyes,
And then did I spy Sélená in all her grand glory standing
With a mild smile, as if for a child, and she reached out
And said, “Come;” with some dread I obeyed, and she led
Over starlit beams, thru heavenly dreams, what seemed
So real that I could feel every vibration of the exhilaration
Of cosmic life, pulsing and pounding, dashing and flashing.

“Here’s a treat, for you to meet fair Fáelána and Suíbhnæ;
Ah! Is it not man’s law to behold sublime beauty in awe?”
And, indeed, were they beautiful enough to feed my soul;
Quivering inside as they stood by placid pond, not flaccid
In strength, either one, but tall and well-toned and honed;
“For years they’ve been friends; now will their love ascend,
As they strip to dip, they will learn and in passion burn.”


Suíbhnæ cried, “You have what God has given me, I see,
But more!” to which Fáelána begged, “Yes, but I implore
Do not for this the bliss of our friendship now deplore!”
Suíbhnæ laughed, “My dearest sister, how can I ignore
Such visible miracle? But wait! I do not hate nor deplore;
Seeing all of you now as really you are, I truly adore!”
Fáelána questioned, “Can you abide what I have to hide?”

“Their story? Very young they were sent among the Druids,
But the fluid in their veins could not let them long remain
In the ways of such religious haze and mad spiritual maze,
So as one they fled and bled in frightful flight to freedom.
Along the way they grew in strength and skill and cunning,
Learned to kill … for meals but, too, for cheated deals.
And so have they been for years but never so near as now.”


Fáelána embraced Suíbhnæ, and caressed her back with no lack
Of tender touch, with such soothing sigh from Suíbhnæ, eyes
To eyes, lips to lips for each to sip from love’s sweet drip;
“Truly I have loved you from the moment we met in wet street
In front of the Druid prison-mont,” Fáelána whisper-breathed;
“And I you, too, but never to know you could make me whole.”
Sélená smiled, “Here is where they dare sanctify deepest care
And love from above.”

One question arose for me to pose: “Why do you show me this?
Am I amiss in wondering for what greater purpose than what
Is seen on the surface?” Sélená gently pulled me to her side
And did not chide, but led me in stride to the water’s edge;
“Love does not hedge, my dear; love is not leery nor does it
Grow weary, even though those who love so often do, tis true.
Love is being, seeing, and freeing; giving and forgiving.”


Still I did not understand, but there came no divine reprimand;
“You see, Fáelána and Suíbhnæ have become one in a way that
Will stay them sure for all days to come, and this will bless
So many, not just some; for here from their own pain and love
Will be lain the foundation of an orphanage for the unfortunate
And destitute children, and this will constitute the first here
In this desolate region, filled with legion of human demons.”

Amazed. Awestruck. “You see, even now they are coming to know
What it is to show unconditional love and to embrace the least,
Who’ve been treated like beasts; to show passion of compassion
Without stingy ration of water and food imbued with ashen hate.
Come and come again will the little ones to this place of grace,
Never again to be disgraced or defaced; they’ll be all embraced.
And it shall be known as the Cove of the Mistress of Christus.”


“Really?” Sélená pulled me chest to her breast, “Yes and more
In store!” Her radiant eyes danced in the moonlight so brightly;
“Suibhne will give birth to Caillína, anointed saint-shepherdess
Of all of her people who will raise the first steeple of eternal love.”
Astonishment! Sélená only laughed, “Scientists are not so smart;
They only know in part and they’re persona is really quite tart,
Don’t you agree, my pet? They don’t believe what they cannot see;
Why, if you raised them in the desert they’d deny there’s a tree!”

Sélená turned and I blushed in the thrill of her still holding me;
She smiled, “Let us go so I can show you more glory of this story.”
My face to the place of Fáelána and Suíbhnæ, I saw there they lay
In edge-water shallow embraced, coupled in fine supple movements,
Giving and receiving, living love in thanksgiving for one another.
Sélená gently tugged, “There is more to see from me, my honeybee;”
And quietly she added, “And more satisfaction in my transaction.”


Suibhne means “well-going;” Fáelán means “little wolf.” Obviously, the spellings have been slightly altered.

The Third Dawning

3648044_origQuiet evening on the plateau with glow of setting sun;
Chill of Tennessee winter, thrill of Christmas coming;
Slightly white lawn, and yawn of another work day done;
My bed said “come,” so very gladly my head I laid down.
I was young, life barely begun, my destiny yet unspun.

One unknown crept in as I slept, warmly kept by cover;
Without threat, she didn’t upset, yet whet my appetite
For more than dreams with celestial beams in a stream
Of vision, new theme, with gleam in her eyes I spied;
And my room changed with bloom of some new reality.

Midnight came, nothing seemed the same except my name;
Room window was brightly lit, unsightly light at night;
And so I peered out and greatly feared change so weird:
All was day without sun; I could not stay but made way
To front lawn to see the nightly dawn with others drawn.

We walked on hail-covered ground with sounds of wonder;
We talked in awe to behold the sight, but it wasn’t cold;
One voice came near me and clearly spoke:

“This is the Third Dawning.”


Note: Whether dream, vision, or reality this did, in fact, occur. This was an experience of the like I’d never had before nor have had since that night so many years ago. Also, picture from

Wrong Guilt Load to Carry

star-of-heaven[1]Phɶneus —  Oh, indeed, what tangled webs you weave! Oh, how your heart you do deceive! Why come to me for me to relieve? What can mere sprit do, when in healing you do not believe?

Baroseus —  And now I know; why torture me so? All guilt rises from soul coffin below to cast me down in agony of sin I cannot begin to repay even if I were given unending day.

Phɶneus —  Ah! It is not mine, but yours to whip and cry, as you lie to your heart, for no part did you play in his fall, or do you tower so tall in your sight that you blight all memory of truth of what happened that week so bright?

Baroseus —  No! My memory’s unclear, though truth is near, but save me from torment and fear and tell me what I must hear, dear Phɶneus!

Phɶneus —  Listen, then! He blames you for ruining his life; does he accuse you, as well, for losing his wife? And all because he would not ~ or, perhaps, could not ~ work as clerk? But you did not burke this man, Baroseus; himself he damned as he slammed into the Fates! Be done with your guilt and shame; it’s a sham to the hilt!

Baroseus — If so, Phɶneus, why then do I feel so deeply, hurt from head to heel while I skirt round house making appeal to God, and begging to heal, while mind and spirit reel in agony?

Phɶneus — Oh so simple to explain, simple child; you’ve beguiled your heart, cut off the better part. Lies in angry animosity under accusation flies in your face, and you lace it all together into mock-truth as you pace to-and-fro across the floor and say no more… You merely receive it all as given, and thus deceive yourself rather than relieve such burden with but the little knife of honesty.

Baroseus — You are right, Phɶneus! In light of reality, his fight is not with me but with sight of his own flight from his own soul, into night of despair and grand illusion, mind confusion in seclusion ‘gainst what really happened that fateful day. His loss of hire was not my fault, then why assault me with fire of the Liar and Grand Beguiler?

Phɶneus — Ah! Now you see and understand; now you can be free! It was never your burden to carry, so let not heart tarry long with another’s wrong. Dance and new song sing, Baroseus, and prance like happy child now. As everyone else, his life is what he makes and none can shake from his hands what heaven has given to meet earthen demands, for good or ill just as he will… And, so, for you as well, Baroseus.


Picture: Alethea, goddess of truth, found at Goddess A Day

Finding ‘I’ and ‘Me’

EyeHow strange it seems that only in mystery
Do “I” find “me,” in the history my soul left behind;
In like kind do “I” show my face with mask
As it is for the “me” to be true to all that we find
Locked inside; it was never lost, just tied
And tightly bound where only some mournful sound
Arising from heart was heard, and that part
In the finely woven tapestry of gilded words and art
Profound; ah! but perhaps here is where “I”
Live and move and have my being, seeing my “self”
Naked undiscovered, revealed behind cover
Of fiercely-free flowing fluid of lively lurid life detail,
Yet never hurting “I” or “me;” they are free
In soul bondage, odd to say, but this IS a mystery!


World Soul: Memories Long Lost, Forgotten

A word spoken, perhaps; broken image, a sound,
Or sweet incense smell unbound on softest wind
Unbend mind and soul to remember some memory
Long lost and forgotten, but of what we know not;
Feeling rises deep-hot in mind and soul fraught
With truth of another kind ~ primordial, unsought,
Untamed, wild, ne’er mild ~ when earth was child;
We know with an unknowing knowledge unbeguiled,
In inner chamber of the heart, in part, not all
That there is more and has been and will be…
It’s an inescapable inner feeling, peeling away
Layer upon layer of time’s encrustation, frustration
And without hesitation spirit recalls first day
Of dawn, in the beginning, no apprehending of ending
In garden of life, no heart to harden, crime to pardon…


He stepped off onto the ancient Gerasene shore ~
Land of Alexander’s aged ~ where demoniac before
Nazarene cowered and in legion begged, but more
In rage ‘gainst divine sage on time-worn stage
Where played æons of battle seen, unseen
By naked eye, but why was he there that day?
Not to stay nor play, but called perhaps?
Yet so brief to bring relief to man possessed;
Nothing more, then, upon that ancient shore?
Ah! But there is always more to mystic lore,
Left shrouded in mystery, beclouded by history.


Powerful sensation from an eternal relation
Shared by humanity, though called insanity,
On the edge of reality; we know we’ve hidden
And show not any indication of recognition
Of memories we share in dream or nightmare;
Yet there is no escape from spiritual shape
Of ancestors gone before, who into us pour
From open heavenly door what divine likeness
We adore and abhor, as we rape God’s creation,
And drape funeral shawl over soul in denial
Of her own reality, in shuttered mentality;
But we cannot escape word spoken, broken image,
Sound, or incense smell unbound on soft wind
To remember memories long lost and forgotten.



Latin_image_1Rising in the night, my light, but how did I know,
Bright sight, Çynthίa, illumining my path to show
You were she, two reflections on the same one sea
Of immortal deity, incarnate in radiant beauty,
Sélená… mysterious attraction, mystic abstraction,
Yet flesh and blood, veiled immortality, plurality
Of Moon, of black and white, of lack and wax;
In earthen acts divine ~ fine wine ~ you shine
Around the world, hurled thru the heavens sublime,
Marking time ~ Sol mime ~ thru stars you climb,
Yet also are you sister, friend, who to us attend,
And mend broken hearts with light thread; portend
Brighter days without end, and send love shot
Through nocturnal laden-heavy, what souls sought
But ne’er could find in looking, nor sold and bought
In marketplace of disgrace, so base and soiled
By those who toiled humanity to fell and destroy
By devilish ploy, but like a toy you played them
And hemmed ’em in with smile what could beguile
Legions of demons, freemen and seamen, and you
Only laugh, turn away and play your soft, sweet tune
As you rest thru the noon, under brother sun
Shining brightly till nightly journey begins again…
Ah! Now I know deep down below, tis not a show,
But falling at your very feet, remain they in complete
Ignorance; like sheep, they bleat ever so replete,
Being fed by what you bled from soil in endless toil;
But do they know whom they so love from above? No…


Image from iMythology

On My Birthday: 45

Pelike_Geras_Louvre_G234[1]Your soul is ere weakened in sole isolation,
And less resolution within your seclusion;
Around you with so many people hives,
Always smiling with sharpened knives
To sever your selfmade spirit-bonds,
On this birthday; you’re forty-five!
And God his chariot rides in high-sky
Of tranquil blue where happy angels fly;
You too can skip and dance, sing to prance
In complete freedom from mock-aged trance!


Picture/photo of Geras, ancient Greek god of the old (or much aging, long life), son of Erebus, primordial god of thick darkness, black night, the shadow(s)

I Know You Know

I know you know, and see what others do not see,
That I ran not away from you but rather from me;
I know you know, and hear what others do not hear,
That I’ve cried a thousand tears in shameful fear;
I know you know, and feel what others do not feel,
That when I bend and kneel to pray, I need to heal;
I know you know, and sense what others do not sense,
That I make no pretense as I lower my heart’s defense;
I know you know, and taste what others do not taste,
That I spice kiss with honesty and never make haste;
I know you know, and smell what others do not smell;
That as I skirt the very edges of hell, you will tell
What you know you know, and ring loud the wedding bell.