theVoice
A Devotional For The Goddess..
Goddess please take your power back....
for I crave to worship at your alter,.
and attend you with warm scented oils and soft linen,
and stroke your breast and inner thigh,
and in my devotion as dedication
to trust and love you, as we both must.
For in this time of distorted truth,
to be able to hold you close,
looking into your eyes in our passions flight,
and know that tomorrow, whether blue or black,
will not forsake my devotion to you, and thus us.
Goddess, .Goddess, ..
please take your power back, ....
for I crave to worship at your alter,
and attend you with warm scented oils and soft linen
and lay before you my heart,
to caress,..and to bless,
.and always keep apart, for if we fear to be devout,
inner hell will rise and devour our soul,
and leave us as an empty bowl
and rob us of direction, dedication, and perception..
Goddess, lovely Goddess, please take your power back,
and in our embrace, .flow some on to me,
so I can better understand you, and WE.
An Awakening Dream
I was standing on top of my bus pouring sandalwood oil into the claw footed
bathtub mounted on the deck....the water in the tub was covered with rose
petals.....
the sun was setting.....autumn colors...golden orange, yellow, pink, purple,
blue, soft brown, clouds in the sky over the pacific....white sands spread out
before the bus............which was in a canyon.......
Suddenly I shape-shifted into the eye of a eagle....screeching....the view was
of the bus from far above and behind....the canyon were hundreds of miles of
condos along the Mexican coast.....the bus was dwarfed in their shadows......
the eagle swooped deep into the canyons of reflecting windows....approaching
the bus from the rear and silhouetting me against the sunset.....I was wearing
a beautiful hand painted sarong from Bali....the pattern was of gecko's.......
As the shadow of the eagle gently brushed my back the sarong turned into
living body art....and I was holding a cobalt blue bottle of Kombucha in one
hand and a smoking sage smug in the other.....Van Morrison was singing 'Queen
of the Slipstreams' in the background.....
As the eagle swooped back into the heights overhead...it's reflection
shape-shifted in the sunset filled windows of the condo canyon from
eagle....to a angel....to laughter....which echoed down upon me.......
I was setting back in the tub...all the aches and pains of the world were
dissipating from my body...next to the tub was a small table...on the table
was a damask alter cloth with two crystal Champaign tulips...their bases were
etched crystal figurines of doves in a loving embrace....they were filled with
Champaign and shimmered as the golden sunset reflected through them......
In a bud vase next to the glasses, was a single yellow rose...perfect in it's
reality..... and as I gazed at it...it turned into a lovely young
lady...golden skinned and supple....standing with her back to me gazing at the
sunset....she was wearing a hand painted sarong also......she let it slide
from her hips and slowly stepped into the bathtub.......sat and leaned back
against my chest......
Time became warped and distorted as I gently washed her back......the fragrant
rose petals seemed to adhere to her lovely body and become a part of her...the
sandalwood beaded on her golden skin and made her raven blue-black hair
glisten in the sunset........
I looked at the glasses on the table.....one was empty....the other still
full....reflected the featureless face of my lover...yet in the featureless
reflection was combined all the faces of every lover that I have ever
known......
As she arose. the sunset turned her smooth skin to glistening golden hews, and
the fragrant droplets of sandalwood became pearls....I took a black towel and
began to dry her body, and as I did...starting from her lovely
shoulders....supplely winding it's way down to her feet....appeared a single
yellow rosebud.....
It's perfect golden yellow petals on her left shoulder blade...the stem
started down at a angle toward her right hip...one branch of leaves went under
her right arm...the leaves softly cupped her right breast.....the steam
continued across her right buttock onto her thigh....
wrapped around her leg and ended at her ankle.......
When I had finished drying her.....she turned to me....upon her featureless
face was one glistening teardrop of sandalwood oil...she kissed me softly upon
the lips...transferring the teardrop from her face to mine........ and was
gone....
Again I shape-shifted into the eye of a eagle....looking at myself from above
as I glided down the canyons of windows.....which were now quite distorted and
abandoned...my reflection in the dirty glass was of the fiery Phoenix......and
as I swooped closer to my other self the tattoo on my back turned into a
withered dusty rose....and the screech of defiance became nothing more then a
cry of anguish.....
I reached down and carried her still full glass to my parched
lips...drank.....and when done looked to see that the backwash was a deep
crimson blood red swirl in pure ambrosia........
At that moment I awoke to discover standing at the foot of my bed a
shape-shifter....changing from my faceless lover....to a place lost in time
and space.....to a single yellow rose.....to dust.......to a phoenix.....to a
eagle....to myself.......to a Champaign tulip filled with ambrosia and a
crimson swirl......to laughter......to a glistening tear.
that was it....except for a poem and a thought..........
this is the poem.....
One Yellow Rose
Someday I hope to just stand and look at you,
and hold out a single Yellow Rose,
and have you gently take it,
and look at it and see,
as I do,
the serenity in the few moments of beauty
we have had together.
Realizing how much grace and beauty
that single shining Yellow Rose reflects.
Beauty that was and is,
a glowing glory through the blackness that
shrouds it and us even now,
allowing us to become entwined impassioned lovers once more,
if in nothing more than thought,
just One Yellow Rose.
This is the thought....
Love never dies,
it just becomes lost sometimes behind anger and fear.
To deny this truth is to live in a lie,
love never dies,
we just forget where to look for it.
So, it is best to lead with our hearts.
Rage
She is so angry, she said,
no one runs their hands through her hair,
and no one lets her cry
or brushes her soft thigh,
and no one listens to her sing,
or understands her rage.
She is trapped in her hungry body, it is her cage,
and as I try to cool her rage,
she takes me, and strides me,
and try's to drive the devils away,
with her gasping thrusts, spirited by her thirst,
and oh so angry, seeking, raging lust.
The rage that comes will never die,
if we hurt and don't trust,
we will still live in our cage,
so let it go, long gone let it go,
stand under a clear sky, and cry,
and rage, and let it go bye,
washed away by tears of released pain.,
life's new springtime rain.
When I wake in the morning, she is gone,
not a sign, except for her dusky scent,
the scratches on the back of my neck,
and the shards of her soul imbedded in my heart.
For the tears that never came,
will never wash her breast,
or fall like rain on my chest
And I will sit alone under the moon,
listening, and wishing that I could try, once more,
to break into that soft female cage,
and release the lady's rage.
But I let her go, why, I will never know,
I will never know, I will never know..
The rage that comes will never die,.
if we hurt and don't trust,
we will still live in our cage,
so let it go,.long gone let it go,
stand under a clear sky, and cry,
and rage, and let it go bye
washed away by tears of released pain,
life's new springtime rain.
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