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Sunday, September 2, 2012

Speak To Me

Speak To Me
(a collaboration of Janet and Bill)


in the near quiet of my soul
there is a music
and barely audible whisperings
telling me
“there is more”

many times
my life is too busy
to pay attention
to the details

and there are times
i desperately long
to hear those sweet incantations
that are surely heaven borne

i find my significance
in the voices of those
who would take their divine time
to instruct me
on the way i should go
the thoughts
i should think
the feelings
i should embrace

all of that good cloth

Speak To Me

Speak to me . . .
of Empty Holiday Stockings
full of promise . . .
and gifts that require no Earthly Utterance
but are strong of substance.

Whisper to me . . .
of Horizons just beyond
the mili-second sunset
where Birds Of Paradise Glide
and Doves are well known
for their peaceful crooning songs.

Sing to me . . .
the words of Inspiration
that lift me up
and let me sing
my song, with it's strange chorus
only known by God . . .

and . . .

possibly the Enlightened Ones
who shift in and out of sight
with third eye acquity and the ease
of fairies on wing.

Fly with me . . .
to the Mother Planet
where there is no time
and we safely dance
on the rainbow razor's edge
where truth lies
on every distant shore.

Awaken me . . .
from this dream
of harsh perspectives
into my own reality
where butterflies dance
this has been my cry


i too have these longings
that are no longer willing
to lie passively
at the gate of my desires

they refuse to sit by the fence
and watch the blossoming
of sweet fruits
in the gardens
of dreams that are dying
for the lack of nurture

the vitality of my youth
but no longer lived
in how i approach my day
i lament

have i wasted too much time
seeking my own image
found in passing faces
passing times
passing joys
that indentured themselves
to my hauntings
instead of my realizations

yes oh Spirit of the Father
Angels of Mercy
speak to me
tell me of thy plans
for this life
that slowly slips
between the fingers
of my once firm grasp
speak to me


I too had wondered this very day
had I wasted too much time
on coarse habits that lead to
nowhere . . .
except devout decay.

In my wondering, wandering
and pondering ways . . .
I finally quieted myself
and heard ancestral whisperings
of assurance . . .
that my path was straight.

The messages came to me
as clearly as Montego Bay.
Gentle voices, like many waters
stirring and I heard every one.

“My child, my Child,
you are beauty divine
you are love's breath
every moment, everyday

nay . . .

no misstep was taken by you
it was all in your guided plan.

The people of the world
know not, who you are
and it is not your place
to convince them

just be . . .
the light of your Father
who exudes brilliance
you too illuminate
without knowing

and time is but a fallacy
continue as you are, with we.”

This, they spoke to me.

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