Allow me to warm up your soul
So you may tread earth with your sole
In my wake I will see you quenched
And tend to the embers you have forgotten
Because my breath endures the holes you trenched
And such is my lode; to see you through mortem.

Imagine the morning of the birth of our child.
With it, as well as the reception and a new formed ally,
Will come the concession of identity befalling blind
And ascension of special rates that would have you sigh.
Even though I’ll be seeing the same face I have betrothed,
Your historical account of yesterday will no longer be.
Your day old memoirs combust over the scare of motherhood
And the Oneness you once were is driven by obscurity to flee.

To secure safe passage and divine guidance for your infant
You seek to grasp the physical world you detached from,
Because man seeks to usurp and make nature his student.
Conquer and control for the benefit of some.
Like nature, our reasoning is bereft of consciousness and value
Because we fear the consequence of being emotional
For this marks weakness subject only to feminine lure.
Oh how foolish we are to pursue progress from the external.

Because it is mother nature who gives life so boldly
And sow, I give you my life at will to reap.
So you may nourish me from your body,
Nestled in your arms I may suckle vitality in heap
From your ever flowing stream that fed me at birth.
For magic I have witnessed of woman and nature in marriage,
Interconnected with the mysteries of this Earth
And by the mysterious of us mystics, we shall be your carriage.

She was the fruit perched high up on the tree
And the lather of a thorn which cut deep
Now again I rise from a very ashen dream
With a hide much softer than before
In love I fall at the whim of likeness
And out of it I walk at the loss of identity

A mistake we have taken to conscious
Into thinking we have gained
A belief we have rationed with
For the loss of our wrongs
Comfortable is the thoughtless life
Especially when its all laid out
Because lavish is the art of choice
For as long as I reign supreme
So until I hear the echo of your silence
I will live accordingly to their will
My right to rule forged by instruction
Because there is order on a road frequently paved
Where twigs and thorns cease to be
My ruin becomes the shelter I harbour my soul
So when the herd bellows through without toil
I will lick my wounds with salted breath
When will my brethren wake from within
Because censored is the grief we inherit
So too is the past we live today
Because senseless is the misery we choose to be
So if none must come to My rescue
In solitude I am happy to be alone
For I am not alone when I am All in One

the sound image of a tree
a word of mouth it cannot be
nor can a pecker of wood see
but in our mind's eye we recite
the four veda's of creation
absent is your breath when fires ignite
in nourishment of a flowing imagination
for this is what the tree had said
on a rooted bed the boy sits being fed
the ability to recite a word
to thee in mind without speech
speaks of one sound image
to see and hear one's own phenomena
because rather than the physical sound
the tree recite's the word tree to thy self.

Her sole tread this earth when faith became narrow
With the sun disappearing beneath her earthly crest
And perched high up her kin bid her good morrow
Her scent revered across the land when war she laid to rest
This was Pleiades the seven studded sister rooted in love
She who prunes the shrub down to the stem
So light may cleave the soul that fell from above
And such was her beaut the beloved daughter of Shem
Cast into a world fashioned in hate
Eager to condemn and prosecute in cod
How difficult it is to welcome our heavenly fate
How can you experience your self anything less than a God
So when her lips seize to move she awaits your state
Because only your self believes your self to be flawed
Yet things and beings remain as the same
As the tree still rooted whence she sway
As the nightly stars whence she came

when she heard him speak
his words sent her heart to its peak
truth was the melody played
and grievance was the tune she plagued
self assured she sought to revenge
and swiftly her darkest thoughts arrange
tireless she became to find her toy
but playful was the heart she tried to destroy
silent was the ignorant man who had done no wrong
making it up as he hummed his song
and pungent was the wise ready to mock
who gathers her flock eager to split this rock
on deaf ears fell her sword dipped in venom
because wise was she to abrupt the fools sermon