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Heaven is a Place
The rain lashed down and the storm didn't abate 'till late next morning.
On awakening after a disturbed night sleep, I noticed a tree had fallen. The sky looked bright and more blue than I ever remembered. The calm after the storm seemed quite uplifting and remarkable.
In the distance I heard birds singing. The blankness of emptiness,
dissipated. My friend, who was working in our garden was whistling, and I swear I saw the wet mud, glistening.
Even the unkempt home and garden on our Avenue looked beautiful.
I imagined flowers growing there! I visualised the new growth of Spring and the birds KNEW what I was thinking. Holding my eyes shut, I saw daffodils growing, glowing in the gentle breeze.
Neither looking outward nor inward, I saw new ground. New seeds! The storm left a strong vibration, an opening to new possibilities. The old way seemed unbearable!
Everything is beautiful.
The storm moved me.
A storm inwards and outwards resulted in writing this poem.
Storms or not , the stillness remains.
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