Thursday, September 12, 2019

winged ones hear

 the sound of the air

they fly in tune with the magic 

that holds the heart 

of Mother Earths nurturing prayer

golden angels call at morn

the beloved one to be reborn

light beams radiate and transform 

sleepers awake to a new formless form

that is from the soul that can soar

with wings on high

but still recognize this life

and spirit body to which it resides

and while the angels watch 

we guard our weary hearts

longing so to fly

with the winged ones across the sky

and so we find a perch

a nest of sacred words

to build a resting place

that is where we find a safe place 

to issue forth a call

to those who listen

to the ringing of ancient bells 

and we interpret what it tells

into these limitated words 

that seek to repeat the sound of air

and the invisible spirit

for with the language soul   


all is well 

all is well

all is well