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The spiritual ladder is somewhat the same for everyone
"Archaic" beginnings as the spirit takes growth
Into "Magical" beliefs that fill our hearts
With Utopian reprieve

Yet the "Mythical" awaits like a principal in the next room
Wielding the Bible Belt of fundamental values
And if we were truly blessed we reach for
"Rationality" the next rung
On the ladder of spiritual evolution

This is the kicker:
Rationality leads to Agnosticism
And Atheism
But have no fear
For if you truly have the gift
The next rung will soothe your
Wayward soul

"Mysticism"
This is where you will find the masters
The Shamans
And yes, some Saints
Those who are known to live in the higher states
States of Enlightenment
The realization of Oneness
It is locked inside of each and everyone of us
It rears its presence in spiritual spikes
On the lower rung of the
Ladder Of Spiritual Evolution

So in conclusion
Only those of the higher rungs
Are the ones that we can't understand
We are not there yet
Or at least I'm not
Not this time around anyways...
If you want to know more read
Ken Wilber
***, Ecology and Spiritually
Everyone is on different Spiritual levels
The search is only in your own contemplative mind.
Eyes chanced upon a brown object
Nestled on  a crowd of multi-colored subjects
A bunch of dried and fresh leaves,
Small, thin and soft spikes of twigs
And I wondered.....how on earth
Did fibers and strips of polyester sack
Get included in this mix?

One would think it might fall, and be slung
But it stayed put, steady, where it hang
I was trying to figure it out:
A cylnder, at first thought...but I had my doubts
I realized, it was a crooked oblong
And, from its opening on one side, came the soft songs
A small part of which, was attached
To the thorny Bougainvillea branch.

Strange.....for it was small...yet steep
A human hand could never go deep
You wouldn't think it could contain anything
And yet...inside it, were resting
Three tiny eggs...warming
And eventually, would be hatching.

Soon, the Red Palm and Sweetsop trees
Buzzed with activities
Birds of many kinds, watched, upon the bay window eave,
High on the electric cables...they perched and wouldn't leave
To and fro.......high and low, they flew
The air was filled with bird sounds i never knew

Soon, too, soft tweeting was heard
Along with the louder chirping of the older birds
Then came that morning, when, a birdling,
Eagerly, tested its wings,
Then fell off its nest
Down to the roots of the Red Palm tree
Where it almost met its final rest...
Suddenly, came to the rescue, two big palms
That put the birdling back inside its home
And reinforced the nearly displaced nest...

Both birdling and nest, were put to a test....

Today, other birds fly around this once busy space
Where life's significant phases
Inevitably took place,
Lonely and deserted now,
For the birdlings are fully grown
They're  now flying on their own...

From my rocking chair, I could see
Among those entangled twigs
Hidden among a crowd of sprigs
Still ably rests
An abandoned strange nest
That once told the story
Of an Olive-backed sunbird....and its glory...


Sally

Copyright February 18, 2016
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

^^^^^^^^^^
 Feb 2016 Sydney Victoria
Weasel
Climbin' up the stairs
People runnin' in mad rush
I tread carefully.

{ Weasel }
{ Senryu. }
This is true. Hope you enjoy!
Thank you for reading.
Poem 30
© The Weasel
All rights reserved.
 Feb 2016 Sydney Victoria
Weasel
Nothin' left but empty pockets
And socks wit holes upon each heel.

All the good fings are swept away
Like a rotten banana peel.

Wit nowhere else to turn -
I turn to God.

Wit empty pockets
And holes in my socks -
I turn to God.

{ Weasel }
Hope you enjoy!
Thank you for reading.
Poem 29
© The Weasel
All rights reserved.
As many as the stars
Who could ever count the scars
Left on the shadows of time

Caught in mind traps
That part of us naps
And away our liberties pine

Blessed be the meek
Such superstitious freaks
How lovely the stars
In their eyes

Blessed be the tides
That crash on my mind
In pictures I just can't define...
 Feb 2016 Sydney Victoria
ryn
Lady night offers her generosity
as the stars twinkle in syncopation for me.
Shadow-clad silhouettes...
Their gaits mysterious.
The night lights trail into the depths of my eyes.
Burning away the seconds, so effortless.

The quietness...
Willing forth dishevelled reflections...
Of unkempt emotions.
Allowing a barrage...
Of thoughts and notions that span
over night and day.

So that they could...
Be conveyed through paper and screen.
So that I could...
Share with you what I intimately mean.
The unforgiving onslaught of ideas and feelings
I bravely conjured...
But too afraid to say.
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