12 01 2013

At Mother Earth’s bold gates I see, the birthing of divinity.
Her given things a grand design – all else projections of the mind.
Her grace and wonder plain to see, when shedding our iniquity,
for none of that has come from her, it is our own, when vision blurs.

She takes it in and loves it so, with water bright and winds that blow,
and then she gives it back to me, blessed by her divinity.
It shines again, with calming peace, that light that fills a soul with ease.
A spirit lives within us all, that spirit heeds creations call.

The light that lives in every one, of mother earth and father sun,
shines so brightly when we see, there isn’t only you or me,
our path is joined by those we meet, and lessons learned are Grace’s sweet.

The light is there for all to be, it is unfettered, always free.

Standing humbly, in this light, a thankful shen, both dark and bright.
My weapons are the words I speak, the cause I Am, because it’s me.
Air and fire, water and earth, what we are… our real worth,
becoming now the light within, it does not flicker, shall not dim.

The word inside me seems to say,
Be not afraid, the light of day.
Reap and sow and speak the truth,
(you all once had it, in your youth…),
Stumble on and you will fail,
walk in truth, where love prevails’.




2 responses

13 01 2013
Charron's Chatter

I really feel your surroundings coming out in this poem, Birch. I’m envisioning sweeping, Alaskan terrain…er…tundra. Gorgeous as ever, and a call to be good stewards!

13 01 2013

We’re a little south of the real tundra, but I visit there often, and there is a little within walking distance. Stewards are we all, for good or ill.

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