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Last night
as I sat in
the ancient temple
atop the mountain,
my people surrounding
           me, generations
upon generations,
  voices ascending
       in the wispy and
            earthbound solidarity
                 of ancient prayers,
I felt the words
               rise up
around me, protecting, loving
their intonations
           tingling inside
the doorways
         of my brain
expanding the limits
through glass
and sacred ceilings,
       up unto the stars
celestial understandings
pushing through
my crumbling
walls to break
through barriers
         from the thickness
of night
reaching out
      into purity, a beckoning
             of light
and the words, the singsong tones
passed down from the ancients    
like candlelit incantations
         grew soft, invisible wings    
             that touched my cheek
                   the silky presence of
               the grounded power            
             of my ancestors
welling up in the
         dark caverns within
and as we sang
of new beginnings
         and listened with one heart
to the call of the shofar,
        that ram's horn of blessings,
                            my knotted
loops of longing
resonated in musical notes
strands of the primordial
               in the deep forest
echoes
             of my being
linking my soul's cry
to all the people
           of my book
in a long swirling line
              down to the river,
the desert, the oceans
a tight braided chord
of solidarity, of lineage, of blood
the flesh and bones of heritage
pumping crimson freedom
Yes,
somewhere,
          in even the most
                broken chords
                   of heartstrings
                tiny wings
beat                    
        hope
I am not religious at all. But I found a beautiful light energy in an unexpected place (ironically..for most people very expected but for me not), during a holiday that celebrates renewal. Perhaps the concept of renewal is prticularly significant for me at this time; I think it is significant for all of us, at the right time..:)

* shofar- ram's horn, blown into on certain Jewish holidays to "remind us of the primordial scream, the eternal voiceless call of the soul expressing its desire to return to its Creator."
Seems wrong
Every time
I learn how to love
find the strange things
unusually beautiful
in the smells
painting a picture
of soft soapy skin
that stinky cigarette
smoking in the air
smoldering in the dark
mysterious secrets
like wafting puffs
blowing me around
*like the curious circles

around your eyes
transporting me again
through the veins
in your hands
touching me
a beer gut laughing
merrily admiring me
after enjoying your dinner

memories they flood my mind

salt n pepper hair waving
and those lovely laugh lines
beautiful eyes of grey blue
deeply meaningful

I see every breath we took together

revealing problems
you're facing
my hands
are slowly retracing

endearing my heart
with the way
you look at me
and hear you say
how you love me
& just how much
realizing this is it
ship is in
contented & warmed
by the flames dancing
like a sultry voice
enticingly familiar  
in that safe fire...place
combustible
touched by the simplicities
accepting the way we are

as the momentum
is realized
at the precipice
when the log burning
collapses from heat
exhausted & wanting relief
when love finally
comes to fruition

then...
it is just gone
I am carried away

just like the wind

just like the wind

that took that fire out

Cherie Nolan © 2016
Inspired reflection...
watching the sequencing is a regular thing
this pattern never fails to deliver its best score
they who follow the method will be profiting

many times one has seen this eventuating
they're slotting into the bay's ideal shore
watching the sequencing is a regular thing

utilizing a placements good calculating
is not for them an overly arduous chore
they who follow the method will be profiting

success coming with each prized offering
being educated about this niche's core
watching the sequencing is a regular thing

it appears to be in the model's situating
this their station known as precision's store
they who follow the method will be profiting

on working out a program's functioning
none received counts which would bore
watching the sequencing is a regular thing
they who follow the method will be profiting
Waking up next to you, alone
Your fingers dance inside my soul
Digging a hole,
Deeper than this goes.
You wade in shallow feelings,
Can you see me slowly sinking?
Fading with the waning sun
As the sky's color slowly runs
Like blood, spilling onto my reflection.
Find the flaws inside perfection,
I'm happy inside our
Lonely rejection.
Your kisses take me to heaven,
They're so cruel and so cold
I feel like I'm dead.

Waking up next to you, alone
Please don't go,
Please don't go...
Let us lay inside this hole.

-SLuR
Off to sell 'market tomatoes' to those East Atlanta communist
Those long haired , know it all Bolsheviks and their
electric cars , running around half naked like they have
a clue about a farm , their buying these god awful tomatoes
for two dollars apiece , they smell like *** , wine and sun
screen haggling over my price like I'm growing food for
free , like I've no other place to be
Are these organic , absolutely don't panic , their grown
in A1 chicken **** , the finest soil I've ever been associated with ,
a secret family recipe cooked in Georgia July heat , blessed by
a 'Witch Doctor' from New Orleans , a bit of peat from lowland
forest , cow patties from a friends dairy barn , dry manure thanks to
a 'Horse Princess' from Zebulon , ****** on by a pack of ornery goats in the village of Kelleytown
Copyright September 28 , 2016 by Randolph L Wilson * All Rights Reserved
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