Four out of Eight...

Were visible.
The other half, invisible.
I feel them surround me
Protection, Raphael, Gabriel, Insight
And me, containing the strength
Created by all that support.

Why am I supported so, I wondered?
Why do I need an army of angels?
I await the answer,
it will come to me in a flash of insight!

Reveressence

A tickle at the root
A trickle at the root
The trick is in not minding it
In no sense, unwinding it
Ground water, like an army
Soon grows into a spring
Of harmonious energy
Surfacing to sing a song
That flows, outpours
The Essence
Restores the world to Innocence.

Whole Futures

Moonlight in my eyes
Poetry in my soul
Sweet rush of chaos
How can I explain?
Words betray me, they
Appear faster than I can write.
Images flash by
Whole futures,
God awake in the world,
Golden ages.
Images last longer, a half-life,
And I strive to grasp them
Render them
Tell them
What I see.

Spirit speaks

I’m writing poems again.
A sure sign that my spirit is returning
Or is it me that is returning to it?

The fact that I refer to my spirit as ‘it’
Is a dead giveaway for who’s speaking

Does spirit speak?

And am I that spirit?
Would not I have more certainty if that were so?
Or am I in fact both spirit and matter?

Not wanting anymore to fling my body aside
Like a silk shirt on a hanger
Flapping disconsolately in the wind.

No, now I want to inhabit this body
Occupy this physical space
Make my Presence felt

An unmanifested vision is but a fantasy.
I see too much in the eyes in my head
And feel too little of what’s in here.
In here things are different.
Saner. Holier.
It is wholly I speaking
And when I speaks
I speaks with Love.
Love loves death,
and Love loves life
And God is a whisper away,
on the next pillow……