Tuesday, January 5, 2010

To breath each breath is a prayer of thanks to Gaia.

I am awed by the sunrises and sunsets. I am awed by the universe itself. I am awed by being alive and here to enjoy this life I have. I feel great joy inside my heart finding peace. To breath each breath is a prayer of thanks to Gaia. To blink my eyes and see, a heartfelt thanks to Creation. For each moment is less that a blink in the life of the universe and I am such a small part of One whole. Such wonders are mine to behold, so beautiful this world truly is. One day I will return to Gaia's breast to be reborn and I will enter into to her rest and comfort.

Monday, January 4, 2010

Thoughts of Gaia

Mother Earth, My Lady, the Divine Mother, Provider of Sustenance, The deep swell of water, The Woman of the Green Veil, The Immortal Queen, She who is with us always, Consort of the Heavenly Bodies, Wife to the Celestial Helios, Our Lady Gaia, Our Mother, Lover, Sister, and Grandmothers, Our first Mother, First Woman and Ancestor.

She who is the divine Earth in all it's majesty, raw power and ferociousness. She who is soft, yielding fruitfulness, abundance in good measure. She is the fertile earth, soft, black, moist and warm. Just quivering under the plow, awaiting for the fertile seed and the warmth of the summer sun.

She is both the mother and the daughter. She is the generations of women, as we march through time. She is our past and our future. She is My Sister, My Mother, My Aunt, My Daughter, she is My life. She is every women I've ever met and will ever meet. She is womankind. The Immortal Mother, Queen, and Lover. She is Warrior and poet. She is Ursula protecting her own cubs, the wild terror of a tornado, the amazement and beauty in the golden fields of wheat.

Oh how can I not respect such a resplendent creature such as this? Oh the world has forgotten thee and give such dishonor.


Prisoners of War IV- VII

The only questions - why?
never to be answered for it
can not be. It is
as it is - never to change.

In the mists of conflict
we can grow stronger - such a
false idea. Can you not
see that we are destroyed?

Generations old, full of pain
and understanding hate, can not
fully correct the wounds
of our ancestors, much less ours.

Why do I hate you? My mother
hated you, and my father and all my
generations hated you. But,
do I - how can I not?

We are alike in many ways.
Hate binds us together, love drives
us apart. Our differences
are our similarities; You and me.

The reasoning's of war - sunlight,
moonlight, a deity, a oak,
a German Shepard, my mother, that
pencil, twenty-five cents.

The reasoning of hate - everything.
The reasoning of love - everything
How much closer can it be and
still be so far apart?

You and me - If it weren't for this
hate me would be friends,
we would be content as friends.
Would our mothers be?

History contends to repeat itself:
hate based on history - what
your family did or did not. Do you
tend to repeat history?

Are you cruel like your ancestors? Will
you kill me like that solider
grandfather of yours? close down
my shop - Your uncle?

I don't want to take the risk.
My life is too precious to trust
you or your family for
generations. You are dangerous.

Never can forget what happened.
Never again will it happen. I
won't allow it. Nither will
my family; my children has been taught.

Shame is this - we can not
learn together, grow together, and
be friends. This is our
plight, our shame, our sorrow.

God, take pity on us - we
destroy each other. Where is the love?
Why such complete distrust -
why so much hate in us?

Fighting onward for everything,
never looking back, twisting our souls
and minds. Destroying our
perception, destroying everything.

The forest burns bright
and the light shines
out over the world, the smoke
of destruction covers.

Life burns with acid smoke,
billowing into the sky,
buildings fall under the weight
of the billion dead.

Death becomes our final resting
place, seeing that we
in life could find no place
in peace to rest our head.

Prisoners of War I- III

The forest burns with bright
and the light,
Burning throughout time
never going out.

Life burns as it dies
it's acid smoke
clouding reason now
always choking out.

Death brings together
us in our time
as life obscures forever
altering our hate.

One Molotov cocktail we
drink, extinguishing the
flames of discord, fanning
the flames of unity.

War in the Cities, in the minds,
in the schools, everywhere
not escaping, not taking
Prisoners of War.

Buildings crumble, fall apart
distortedly showing just how
for apart we are
always, alone: always in fear.

Our minds can not understand
other each now; why - why not,
the gulf of humanity
gaping wide swallowing you and me.

Burn - it burns us, War - it
creates war in us, hate - we
become it. Not a way
out of it for the lack of compassion.

Compassion, they don't know it.
It does not exist out there. In the
out only manipulation and wants
exist - the same as warfare.

All lacking the item to save,
to redeem the souls of the lost,
not in war can they see
what is lost - it is not the buildings.

Twisted over the urban battlefield,
souls fail to know how
and finely why: Ghosts of
perception scream out.

Scared, blacked, and wrecked
beyond recognition, they drift
between the alleyways and streets -
skeletons of humanity.

How many are there - lost, gone into
the haven of hate. How
many perpetuate the war, a
urban war unlike any other.

The Molotov cocktail tossed,
crashes and burns destroying
human achievements, it's path
clear as our hate for each other.

What is it that we are doing,
what has set us on this path.
The lost ones lost forever, how
can it be? Not as we want it.