Sunday, July 17, 2011

Channeled Poem, Safe from the Wolves, 7-17-2011

Completely and surely we all fall apart
reluctantly managing thoughts from the dark.
Blindly in grey we grasp at ideas,
and quickly lay tracks upon facts and raw data,
only to quickly see this isn't the way,
and so we lie back and give up on this day.
Plodding along through the untidy outcome,
bleeding emotions on all who would want some
time to explain where it is we went wrong,
suddenly singing what sounds like a song,
written quite skillfully out of the blue,
brilliance and ease where we once had no clue.
Blessings and gratitude begin leaking aptly
on the lowest flood plain of stagnant apathy.
This is the lonely birthing of new
ways of life's needs met and virtue
thrown to the wolves who have followed thus far,
and naked we run to the soft grass and stars
which feather the nest of the consciousness present
and incinerate duties and thoughts of the peasant.
Fresh and more simple is this new born creature,
now in service and an effortless teacher.

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