34 Hail The Triumphant Sun!
34 Hail the Triumphant sun!
Wednesday June 20, 2012:
"Hail the triumphant sun, arching above the spinning earth.
Frail is the wind-blown bloom drifting on flowing waters
Down to the embracing sea.
Sail on life giving sun Spin on into the sleeping night.
Where the blossom and thorn brings fragrance and blood.
And where in the stillness lies only love, only love,
Love, love. .
Night sneaks up to us as we sit in circle on the roof. The mountains watch
the valley as it stretches out ready to sleep under the imminent, enfolding
darkness.
Softly, the borgonvillia trembles in my hand as I stroke the silken petals.
What are those unhealed wounds that I would mend? My thick tongue fills my
mouth. I can't say, I just can't say it out loud in case the saying cements
them. Stupid! Say it, own it, and release it. Once it served you, in taking
the learnings you can let go of the emotions.
I take a leaf from the bowl and hold it. My fingers stroke its sharp
contour, tracing the arched smoothness rising up from the dipped spine; feel
its substance and its frailness under my fingers.
"Despair" I say, "I give up despair". My fingers release the leaf and the
wind catches it, lifting it swirling into the air and over the balustrade.
The lavender is frilled and frothy in my hands. Shyly it touches my skin
with its moistness; tenderly it gives up its delicate perfume. I breathe it
in; my skin ingests it as I hold the bloom against my heart.
I imagine the warm sun shining down on the lavender and the heat allowing it
to release its perfume. I hold it up to the dying sun and give it my wish, I
breathe in my intention to love myself unconditionally.
And as the sun finally slips behind the mountains, I dance. I dance, for
what else is there to do? The air chills. The birds fall silent and the
watchers look up to where the thinnest slither of the new moon has risen. I
imagine it, slight and silver against the darkening blue of the sky.
I think of my life as it is now, what I had hoped for and what I must build
and work for.
"What shall I do for fun, when I grow up," I think leaving the roof to the
party goers. "How can I learn to be a friend not a slave to my leadership in
this world?"
Wednesday June 20, 2012:
"Hail the triumphant sun, arching above the spinning earth.
Frail is the wind-blown bloom drifting on flowing waters
Down to the embracing sea.
Sail on life giving sun Spin on into the sleeping night.
Where the blossom and thorn brings fragrance and blood.
And where in the stillness lies only love, only love,
Love, love. .
Night sneaks up to us as we sit in circle on the roof. The mountains watch
the valley as it stretches out ready to sleep under the imminent, enfolding
darkness.
Softly, the borgonvillia trembles in my hand as I stroke the silken petals.
What are those unhealed wounds that I would mend? My thick tongue fills my
mouth. I can't say, I just can't say it out loud in case the saying cements
them. Stupid! Say it, own it, and release it. Once it served you, in taking
the learnings you can let go of the emotions.
I take a leaf from the bowl and hold it. My fingers stroke its sharp
contour, tracing the arched smoothness rising up from the dipped spine; feel
its substance and its frailness under my fingers.
"Despair" I say, "I give up despair". My fingers release the leaf and the
wind catches it, lifting it swirling into the air and over the balustrade.
The lavender is frilled and frothy in my hands. Shyly it touches my skin
with its moistness; tenderly it gives up its delicate perfume. I breathe it
in; my skin ingests it as I hold the bloom against my heart.
I imagine the warm sun shining down on the lavender and the heat allowing it
to release its perfume. I hold it up to the dying sun and give it my wish, I
breathe in my intention to love myself unconditionally.
And as the sun finally slips behind the mountains, I dance. I dance, for
what else is there to do? The air chills. The birds fall silent and the
watchers look up to where the thinnest slither of the new moon has risen. I
imagine it, slight and silver against the darkening blue of the sky.
I think of my life as it is now, what I had hoped for and what I must build
and work for.
"What shall I do for fun, when I grow up," I think leaving the roof to the
party goers. "How can I learn to be a friend not a slave to my leadership in
this world?"
posted by Blackbirdowl | 7:59 AM
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