The universe spins
Eyes swirl around a cup of tea
The spoon is patient

Your love for me has opened the window from the start.
Your love for me has sent a warm breeze to my heart.
Your love for me is distant like the luminous stars.
Your love for me is distant like Venus and Mars.

Your love for me shines like the brightest star.
Your love for me wonders where you are.
Your love for me feels light years away in space.
Your love for me will allow us to meet face-to-face.

Your love for me is luminous like the white moon.
Your love for me will happen very soon.
Your love for me reminds me of the Milky Way.
Your love for me wants me to pray.

I want to wish, and pray upon a shooting star.
I wish you were here because you live so far.
When this wish comes true..
All I want to be is with you..

I will imagine your manifestation by my side.
I will imagine you resting your head on my chest all night.
I will imagine you gazing into my eyes.
I want to imagine this all night..

All I have to do is realize you are far away..
All I have to do is pray everyday.
When all the shooting stars eventually connect..
In the end we will meet, and that will be perfect.

Going To You

I couldn’t sleep. What could I do?
I went to you.
I go as often as I can,
As often as élan emerges:
Like a spy whose operation purges,
Does not tell (well,
                 those detected and elected).
I ought to come to you more often.  
True to form you’re there to soften
In one way or t’other – like a mother.

Is it just interpretation, fancy, brain synaptic,
Watching happenings?
Often ending as I would wish they should,
Seeing failings patched, detached,
Improving slowly once they’re hatched?

If I had been born to preach,
Joined synagogue or church,
Become rabbi, Mormon, Witness, priest,
Going north, south, west and east
At least I’d feel I landed.

But I’m silent and agog,
A secret seeker through the fog of worldly turbulence
And tastes that tempt, participating in the dance
With casualness, no casualty, but taking in causality as One,
It being April one, a day of fun at fooling friends –
Supercool, I face and grace it with my presence.

Going To You 4.1.2017
God Book II; Circling Round Reality; Pure Nakedness;
Arlene Corwin

I am a respirating being!
I have feelings for various creatures!
I am sensitive!
I am emotional!
I act on things consciously and unconsciously at times!
I regret things I should not!
I put people's feelings, their interests,their preferences and etc. before mine because I feel it's important!
It's important to make other's happy!
Because in this long run of life all you have is support and love from the people near and dear to you!
You may get hurt or may **** your interests and opinions for the sake of others,but there is always a limit to it!
There arises a need to understand that all you have done is enough and it's time for you to stop!
Stop killing yourself because obviously limits are limited.
And these limitations not only bind you to confirm to particular laid down universal norms but in turn helps you realise your worth ,your opinion and your interests!
It's fine to put others before you but it is not acceptable to **** yourself for it!
Stand for yourself!
Get your opinions and your wants straight and put your points in front of people you think you should!
Because at the end, you are all you have!

There are more things
That are not things
Than there are things
That are things.
Potential is a powerful,
Abundant resource.
To tap into the
Unknown, uncharted,
Unachieved, departed -
And introduce it to
What it means to Be -
Makes every artist
A midwife.
Without the great alchemists -
The artists, the dreamers,
Visionaries, poets, musicians -
Those who enter into
Akashic Records
Like a library -
We would only ever have
What has already came to be.
Like a technical computer reality.
Art brings us closer
To the cusp of Life.
Mother Earth is the greatest artist
I've ever known.
Being Human means
Being an artist.
Our Mother may soon
Scold us
For coloring all over the walls.
Making an artist takes time.
In the Universe,
There's plenty of that.

Your languid eyes are shaped like an almond,
Your complexion is like the moon so pale,
Who could not to my figure be likened,
Who's between people and people a veil.
And your speech is in a different tongue,
Veiling the layers of our deep voices,
Making us deaf to hear our true song,
Freezing us in our ignorant choices.
But don't you smell, hear, feel and see like me?
Don't you become saddened and cry like me?
Don't you strive to become happy like me?
Don't you become tired and sigh like me?
  No matter which label, black, white, Asian;
  We all emerge from the same Origin.