WHERE MOONBEAMS FALL
In the soft muted colours of the night,
the etheral fairy dances among the moonbeams,
scattering stardust in her play.
Serenity and inner joy are reflected
in the adiance of her expression
and the lightness of her fairy ballad
as she dances in communion with the universe.
Lidten to the whispers of your heart.
Cherish your most precious dream.
Feel the magic in the air.
Dance on a bright moonbeam.
~
I want to share with you, a favourite poem/song of mine from where I live, here in Lancashire, England, by a Lancastrian poet, Edwin Waugh. This is best said/sung by a campfire, out in the open for best effects - I've experienced it a couple of times, and it's a wonderful feeling, sitting under the open nightsky, listening to the poet/singer, say/sing this poem! DOOWDER
The Moorlands.
Sing, hey for the moorlands, wild, lovely, and stern,
Where the moss creepeth softly all under the fern;
Where the heather-flower sweetens the lone high-land lea,
And the mountain winds whistle, so fresh and so free!
I've wandered o'er landscapes embroidered with flowers,
The richest, the rarest, in greenest of bowers,
Where the throstle's sweet vesper, at summer's day close,
Shook the coronal dews on the rim of the rose;
But, oh for the hills where the heather-cock springs
From his nest in the bracken, with dew on his wings!
Sing, hey for the moorlands!
I've lingered by streamlets that water green plains,
I've mused in the sunlight of shady old lanes,
Where the mild breath of evening came sweetly and slow
From green nooks where bluebells and primroses grow;
But, oh the wild hills that look up at the skies,
Where the green bracken wave to the wind as it flies!
Sing, hey for the moorlands!
Away with the pride and fume of the town,
And give me a lodge in the heatherland brown;
Oh there, to the schemes of the city unknown,
Let me wander with freedom and nature, alone;
Where wild hawks with glee on the hurricane sail,
And the mountain crags thrill to the rush of the gale!
Sing, hey for the moorlands!
In glens which resound to the waterfall's song,
My spirit should play the wild echoes among:
I'd climb the dark steep to my lone montain home,
And, heartsome and poor, o'er the solitude roam:
And the keen winds that harp on the heathery lee
Should sing the grand anthem of freedom to me!
Sing, hey for the moorlands!
By Edwin Waugh, 1817 - 1890.
~
'UNION' I came to Thee in nights of moonless velvet, To offer up these darkest sorrows, That this heart be tempered and purified In the flaming crucible. A thousand prayers I have placed Upon Thy altar, For the grace of sweet surrender. Secret alchemies have now undone This tight-packed rose, Revealing Thy sacred treasure. Kneeling at your lotus feet, Catching pearls in the pre-dawn hush, The rapture of union has begun. Breathing in your stainless presence, Seeing only with eyes of the heart, The eternal Beloved, now she comes dancing. ~by Andrew Forrest~ |
~
BE YOUR OWN GARDEN
Be the still pool; let your face reflect the glory, the wonder.
Be the dragonfly; silent but joyful.
Be the bud; prepare to blossom.
Be the tree; grant shelter.
Be the butterfly; accept the riches of the moment.
Be the moth; seek the light.
Be the lantern; guide the lost.
Be the path; open the way for another.
Be the wind chimes; let the breeze flow through you, turn the storms into song.
Be the rain; wash away, cleanse, forgive.
Be the grass; bounce back when you are trodden on.
Be the bridge; reach in peace towards the other side.
Be the moss; temper your strength with softness, with mercy.
Be the soil; bear fruit.
Be the gardener; create order.
Be the seasons; welcome change.
Be the temple; honour the divine in you.
Be the moon; shine through the darkness.
Be the pebble; let time shape and smooth you.
Be the sun; let your warmth and light touch everyone.
Be the leaf; fall gracefully when your time comes to let go.
Trust in the cycle; to end is to begin.
~ By Tonika Rinar~
