Such sensuality of being is seeing itself new
a mirror of water I wander into.
I yearn to dance under the moon, to sing into rhythm a wise old tune,
lying naked on earth
inspiring the stars to witness my birth,
I sing the freedom that calls my name,
awaken the living again and again...
To see as birds fly so high, to ask for nothing,
BUT ALL, I cry.
Mother of all I am your Queen,
Your Living Being...
A cloud of passing you call upon me,
like touch so soft, so tenderly.
If I could ask for nothing more,
let me rest In the bosom of your sweet all.
So much to say,
so little to relay
a remembering of being,
a freeing through seeing, that I am living.
As the pathways feel beneath her old feet
she wondered what jewels in the next she would greet,
would they dawn upon her brow, a radiant light to all would bow?
Or would it be in the form of man, a lover, a seeker of all her plan?
A mystery tangles the web of unknown, life force, the maker of all things grown.
The hour was late and moon so high,
receiving the sky as the last birds cry,
What is the price for all to be free, to silently
lift into all i could be?
A knowing is whispered from her slow heart,
now is the time,
to let me die.
In a single tear drop,
she sings her song,
and allows the hour to carry it long.
In a shallow breath she was all but gone.
by Fleur Chetwynd
These poems were written in
reflection of breath and enquiry into the nature of desire. One of the greatest challenges I have felt in my recent process has been a deeply felt longing to be enveloped even more deeply by the
divine. The addictive nature of extemely positive experiences of divine bliss have removed me from wholeness by avoiding that which stands in opposition to it. In truth I am that divine and there is
no-thing to be seperate from, or longng for...it is all here in every moment. To support integration and acknowledgment of that divinity I write words that give voice to the deep cries of
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"The imaginal swirls with symbols, myths and forms of the unconscious mind of the individual, collective and universe as one - echoing the bridge between eternity and form.
The place where the dream can become known to itself, can be heard and deeply honored and lived.
The lucid dream is essential, formless, intangible and unknowable, yet deeply felt and lived...touching the heart of the dream within the dream, with the love of consciousness.