Floats off to the very edges of the sky

Released by my intention to sit with my own spirit

To give myself my time

To heal

To be

To turn down my small mind self and hear

The god/dess singing in my bones.

Call home

Oh, call me home!

Bring me into the center of time

Light like a star within me

Let me open like a lily in the dawn

Of humanity’s second birthday—

A millennium older and more wise

And here we are, Beauty, come together in joy

Radiant and dancing on the bright cliff of now.

For Those Who Are Ahead of Their Time

For those who are

Ahead of their time

Who have been stranded

In this lifetime and lifetimes past,

Caught between joy, deep knowing, and the need

To be read, and seen;

For those who are reluctant to step out

Once more into the ring of public feedback

Weary to the bone

Of being told

What we sang from our hearts onto the page

Was worthless;

For all of you, this message straight from the mouth

Of one whose entire lifetime

Was avant-garde:

Let not the deep injustice of the past

Cloud the clear present day.

Time that was not ready,

Now is

And if you have but courage one more time

Old grapes will make new wine.

Jesus’ message was not of pain, he didn’t feel pain.

Being entirely aligned with Light, Light was all he could experience.

So he hung there against the earth and sky

To show us that we were also Light,

That if he could be so fully present

In his god self

As to transcend that punishment,

Then so also could we.

It was a testament to the magic of the universe.

And some of us got it,

Prophets and seers were born—

There were those who listened and those

Whose ears were not yet formed.

Jesus spoke,

And the sleepers heard but faintly

A distant truth.

They thought they heard this world was pain

And heaven the payment for it;

That suffering and sin defined us and set the price;

That compared to Jesus, we were lesser souls.

But those slumberous folks misheard.

And now, having lit

Two thousand candles on our collective birthday cake,

It’s time to try again.

To align ourselves with the true message

From that far time of Christ:

That we are love, and love alone,

With a fair sprinkling of magic

And hope,

And any miracles that Jesus did

Are both our birthright

And our inheritance.

Life turned inside out

Imbibing our own skin

Wearing the soft sweet heart of us

On the outside

With no need of protection.

This time of change

Terrifies

Exhilarates

Uplifts.

We balance on the cusp of a changing planet

As a surfer greets the wave

We surrender our bodies and our hearts

Into the marriage of sun and spume

High on the curl

Seeing before us

Our own divine future.

Little sister,

You are still so afraid

The fear curls in your belly like a child

Eyes closed

Head buried beneath the covers.
 

Little sister,

Where does the fear come from?

What fear is this that curls like snakes behind your eyes,

Ready to blind you if you see or speak?
 

These fears

These snakes are old, old, old

The time of their power has passed

And yet, they live on–

For they mark not time in that place where they reside.
 

It is up to you, sister of light,

To see when the past is already past

To know when yesterday’s wisdom is no longer truth,

When the closed heart is ready to open.
 

Oh sister!

Your fears are my fears

Together we walk the rainbow of rebirth

We are the light bearers,

Torch-kind,

Electric with our own daring

And the possibilities of

Our lightened selves.

Effortless as rain

Let the magic fall

Unhindered from the spirit sky

Until it shimmers around me.

Let me walk as light

Knowing that sustenance will come

Knowing that friends are mine

Knowing that I am in the right place at the right time

Doing the right thing,

All of which rightness opens me

To divine providence;

What I need, I will be given.

Let my day be

Effortless as rain

Joyous as a young girl

Bright as a copper kettle.

Nothing needs to be so hard—

That is an old, old truth no longer mine.

Release!

Surrender!

Splash in the puddles of now

With absolute, muddy abandon.

Thank you!

Alix

We Who Bloom

And the rose when it flowers knows

That its path is to bloom

Or to perfume

Or to be thorns,

A warning and a celebration both,

And we who bloom

Are all of that, and more—

Ecstatic, tremulous,

Ineffable as the road of souls

Where does the light lead us?

Where will the journey go?