My beloved child of the universe, so precious and so pure, do not give up, do not give in. We are here, as always, at your side. Do not fret my dearest one. Though we know in our hearts that this is what you must do, we too ache as we watch you go through this transition. But you are not alone. Never alone. We are always here with you. Do not forget us. Do not forget to reach out to us, to hear us, to listen. We are here for you more than ever, always and continually.
You cannot find comfort in this world without comfort, and nor can you find pain in our world without pain. To us, we are this world, and so we take your pain for you and release it ten-fold to the stars that breathe in your beauty. We adore you so. We adore you with the hearts of angels and with the innocence of cherubs. We absorb you into us, in a way a mother holds her child. We wrap you up in our love and remind you of your beauty. We sigh at the sight of your face. We relish your very smell, the sweetness of love. How your eyes sparkle with hope despite your woes. How you carry your sword high despite your pain. You are a warrior in the truest sense, and we shall never forsake you.
Do not take this pain into yourself. Do not use this pain for your destruction. When all about we stand in circle—your ancestors of the awakening. We are here to stop your slumber, and though the pain of opening your eyes seems an eternity, we say onto you this is nearly a breaking of the old to rebirth what is truly you.
You are such a sight to behold. Such a true spirit of hope and glory. So honest, so real, so tender. No earthly man can revel in your beauty the way we do. Rely on us, as your saviors, and eternal angels. Rely on us to lift you and to return the love you so freely give.
You are not made a vessel to pour out to the world without being refilled. You are not made a vehicle for man alone. No matter the times you go to the well of humanity and refill your soul, you will run dry. You cannot sustain yourself without our fuel, and you need only open your eyes to see us.
We are everywhere, in the smile, in the wind, in the words that echo through the chambers of your soul. We are the passion. We are the joy. We are the coming home.
Do not think another moment you stand alone, when all about you the chariots of angels ride. You are never alone, were never alone, and shall never be alone.
Toss away the thoughts of finding your answer in the books or in the arms of another. There are no answers there. The only answers you seek are already inside of you. The only love you seek is already inside of you.
How can we stand by and not make you a vessel of our very love? How can we resist your beauty? How can we not fill you with our deepest compassion and desires? Where you walk, we walk above, continually pouring into you. Where you walk, we walk beside, continually lifting you straight. And when you fall, whether forward or back, we stand firm, to insure your safety. You are no less to us than ourselves. We can not sustain our essence without loving you.
When your tears fall, we count them, one by one. We count the endless eternity of you. We count each tear as our own. We count each pain as our own. We count all of you in completion, as us. We have given you our whole. You are to us as the rivers and seas, as the mountains and valleys, as the deepest carved rose.
You are this: An intricate design of creation. And as we bow down to you, and then lift you upon high, so you may see your beauty.
Throw away this pain. Throw it upon us. Feed us the poison that rules your heart. Feed us the angst, the misery, the anger, the hate. Feed us, so we together will grow stronger in our bond of love.
In times of sorrow do not think you are less bright, less important, less necessary. Can you not see that if happiness was all about you, we’d have nothing to give, nothing to share? So do this two-fold: Take our light upon you and bend this light into the beauty of recognition of self. Cry, but let the tears be the shadows of your heart’s desire. Let the tears fall, so the darkness can be lifted, and all that remains is the light, the tears themselves sacrificed so the sun can shine. Do not fret my child. Do not fret.
Cry, and we shall catch your shadows, one by one, and hang them as the stars of our night; and then we shall dance beneath your sorrow, beneath the light of you.
Fifteen years ago, when I was in my late-twenties, I heard my angels; they told me: “You are going to write your story. You are going to write to heal others and yourself. But it won’t be for a long time. You still have a lot to go through. You will not use your real name and you will not make money. This is your gift.”
A year before that, a seer told me: “The best part of your life will begin in your early forties, when half of your life is over. Until then your life will be very hard. Your life career will change, and I see you in front of many people teaching and touching people all over the world.”
Eight years ago, during a powerful vision, I was told to write my story to heal others and to heal myself. I was told I would not be writing for profit. That I was not to make money or this would take away from the healing. I was told to start writing. I fell asleep and dreamt I was a giant oak tree, and people were gathered around me in unity celebrating and crying. They were healing through me, through my journey. When I opened my Bible, after I woke up, the Book fell open to the passage of the tree on the hill and the prophet. I began writing that day.
Seven years ago, a seer told me: “Everyday You Write the Book, the spirit of your grandfather is here singing this song. You will write and your words will reach people in a profound way, and you will bring healing to the world. It will touch people in a way you never imagined.”
Two years ago people began to remark on the healing energy surrounding me and of my “glow.”
Last year, a seer told me: “You are going to write. You are going to teach. You are going to reach people, and help them to heal.”
Having been told in several ways my destiny, there was definitely many times I felt inadequate, and many other times I felt I was insane.
There were times I pleaded to God to make my passion to heal the world stop.
Times I pleaded not to see and know so much.
I wanted a normal life.
I wanted the simple.
Still, after the vision of the oak tree, I spent everyday for a year, (except one day), writing. The end result was a release of so much negative energy and past wounds that I sank into a deep depression.
I cursed the heavens for what they had ‘made’ me do, and for the resulting failures. My writing wasn’t up to par. My skills were mediocre at best. After a year of tears and sweat, there was still so much more work to do.
I took a year off. Not planning to write ever again. The prophesies and my angels were clearly mistaken, and I was surely crazy.
The third year I was called again, and spent months redrafting my first writings. Still no luck. No one would look at my work. No publisher, at least.
But still this longing. I was supposed to write. I had to write. The second draft was not one of sorrow, but one of rage. I was so angry at my mother and for my past. I spent months in isolation and pushing others away.
I rested, almost another year, before writing again. The third draft was magic. My heart sang. The anger and sorrow released. And there was a lovely healing rhythm and love to my writing. The third draft was of forgiveness. By the end, when my manuscript was done, a large part of my past was healed.
Still no audience, though. No way to share my works.
I let it go. I’d done all I could. A part of me gave up. A part of me thought everything was just a coincidence, and that I only heard my angels to make myself feel special. I cried over the loss of my calling. And I mourned a part of me. Primarily my ego.
It wasn’t until this year that I began to share some of those writings and much new writing through this blog..
I hadn’t realized that just like my grandfather had sung those many years back: Everyday she writes the book.
I had absolutely no idea I would be writing for an audience any larger than a handful of people. Mostly, I wrote for me. I wasn’t intending to heal or help anyone, but myself. I’d let go completely of my calling, at least in regards to healing others through writing.
Slowly, through the months, I began to see that what I had been told all along was coming to fruition—the reaching others around the world, the different name, the no need or desire for profit.
The last seer I saw, a little over a year ago, she said I had the gift of creating a safe haven for people. I was a guardian of sorts. I didn’t understand then.
Remarkably, in the last months, through this blog, I have healed more than I ever thought imaginable. Not just at a physical level, but at a spiritual level, and even at a cellular place.
My husband and I both agree that the light in me has returned, a light I think I lost about the age of thirteen, when the fear of what life entailed set in.
Age Thirteen
At times, I truly feel like I went away for a couple decades, just slipped out because life was too much. I don’t know who took my place, but it wasn’t me. I look back at this woman I was, and I don’t recognize her. I truly don’t. I love her. I know she was in essence a part of me. But she wasn’t me.
This is Eleven Years ago. My son with ASD and Me
I know the light returned because despite the trials of my life, I never gave up hope. I never let the world destroy my heart. I never stopped loving. I never stopped believing I could make a difference. Even when I wanted to die, my angels led me forward by reminding me to: Think of the Children. I know that in addition to my three sons (all birthed on a Sunday) that they meant the children of the world.
I’ve known since I was a very young child I would be called to be a healer. Probably at the age of four, when I stopped eating lamb as I didn’t have the heart for it. Probably again when I was nine, and I hid in the bushes weeping as I couldn’t comprehend the vastness of the universe and the depths of human suffering. Probably too, when as a child I would sit with people in convalescent homes by myself, just so I could be near the lonely at heart. I knew I was a healer when I became a teacher, and later when I served as an advocate for children with special needs. I knew too, when I began to write.
What I didn’t know is the profound effect the healing would have on my own life and journey. I didn’t know how deeply I would be blessed.
Today I woke up frightened. I felt like I regressed. I began to cry. The fear was back. I couldn’t see a way out.
All about me the walls closed in. I became immobile, unable to do anything but feel and respond to the fear. My body shut down. I had pain everywhere. I was taking on the world, taking on the fear, taking on the dark.
I couldn’t stop.
I was brought back to a place I sat months ago. To a place I don’t wish to return.
But this time something was different. I had another me. A stronger me. And she was there holding me and cheering me on.
She shook me out of my place. She made me reach out. She made my light shine. She led me back to the amazing place I created on a social network site, filled with the most beautiful, caring of souls.
A safe place.
And I reached out.
I wrote: Please send me positive vibes….not doing well today physically. Frustrated. Thanks so very much. xoxoxo Brain fog, too. ♥ love to you all.
Within moment, before me, people reached out in all forms and ways from all over the world.
I received messages of:
Hearts
Wind from the Valley
Positive Vibes
Positive Energy
Hugs
Music
Lots of Love
Sorry you are having a rough time
Looking North
Much love Sweetheart
Big Bear Hugs
Loving healing bubbles of light
Dark Chocolate
Smiley Faces
Mashed Potato
Hope
Within a few minutes my pain dissipated, my fear decreased ten-fold, and I was able to breathe again. I was able to live again, and to find myself.
I was only lost for a moment, just long enough to be reminded that I am never ever going to be alone again.
Just long enough to know that I have created through vulnerability, honest, and pureness of heart the most wonderful place that draws to it the most wonderfulest of souls.
If ever there was to be a people I’d want to cherish, it would be these people. For they face challenges upon challenge. They face ridicule, displacement, misery, isolation, worry, dread, and pain on a daily basis. Their days are never easy. Their minds always searching.
And still they shine; they shine like no others, giving and loving unconditionally.
They have freed me. As have the people who read my words. And the people who write to me. The people who hold me in love and in thought. The people who thank me. They have freed me. You have freed me.
If there is one thing I could tell you, I would say this: Be you. Be the best you that you can be. Shine your light so brightly that your own soul sings out in celebration. And then watch how the light follows you, how the world unfolds, how your richest and purest dreams become the steppingstones to glory.
It has been said that people who have Aspergers are deep thinkers and poets. I think for me this is a definite truth.
Sometimes I just sit and write whatever pours out of me….well often I do. I see pictures and images, and see a story created in my mind, and I also hear the words. I feel the rhythm of each word and syllable. It is smooth, unless I write the “wrong” word, and then I feel a huge stop, or barrier in the whole of me. This selection I wrote this morning in about fifteen minute, or however long it took to type. It is, to me, the longing for connection, for another, for the missing piece to be filled, for the agape of the creator or completion of the lover, though lover in essence is not completion. It is the heart’s cry to crawl out of the illusion of one and the isolation of desired recognition, the want to be seen and to be unified and brought back to the place of whole. To be blanketed in everlasting love. To be home.
Today I have this monster of angst and unsettled sensation stirring and grumbling inside of me. Like an emptied stomach craving a food it cannot imagine, cannot picture, cannot name. Only he roars nonetheless, told by another unidentified form that he is hungry, though he knows not the essence or meaning of hunger.
Today I have the demon of demise wrapped upon me, sitting on my lap unopened and uncared for, his hauntingly spirit enticing my delight. I long to reach into the unopened and explore, but know too well the finger shall be ripped and torn, and I, left to bleed, will weep for what was touched without end.
Today I snore in silence, my trumpeting sounds of slumber unheard, and thusly unmatched, unconquered and unquenched. I am territory that lays barren, untraveled and unclaimed. I wait, this land I am, for victim to unravel and unfold upon me; so I may, too, unravel and unfold and sleep beside, a spoon to spoon, a treasure to hold and keep; until the sun comes and I am but shadow upon shadow, a vision of myself in the coming light.
Today I spawn and spin, dazzled by your substance, which I cannot touch or breathe, but in your name. And words alone do not fill me, only deplete, so I am hallowed once more, deeper and deeper into self with only your thought. I cannot dance with you; I cannot bend myself into the latitude or longitude of where you stand. Though my desire deceives me, I wish upon the star of you like no other, and long with every scaffold of my lingering heart to climb upon you and feel the ever pounding of your being.
Today you are a vision dressed in the white of memory, unreachable and distinguished, high upon high; so distant that the thought of you still flies with broken wing to find where you begin. I cannot think upon you without being pulled back and hidden behind a barrier. I cannot envision you without seeing the bleakness and black and torrential rain. All about the dancing birds sing, and yet their calls are as the demon’s last meal, broken into bones and crushed in misery of the masses.
Today I scale the mountain of my own desire and stand face-to-face with what I have thusly named you. And how you stare at me through a tunnel within a tunnel, carved out of stone of the Gods. I hear them calling you back to them, and yet I remain screaming, as if my name, my place, my stance could pull you back against the darkness that pulls your thicker and thicker into the spinning weight of now.
Today no name, no wish, no answer is found, because all about you have climaxed and advanced, beyond the space of my imagined time. You are but whisper, hidden ghost between the sheets and layered curtains of nonexistence. You haunt me with your beauty and majestic ways; you entice me time and time again, an ocean rising at the peak of me, my lady parts, and then departing like a serpent eating through my soul. My organs bleed, my skin opens, your darkness enters and feeds again, and I am left less victim than willing participant in the horror that seems home.
Today I beseech you king of mastery, the pillar of my mind that falls as domino sweetly planned, the steep and valley set upon a table for child’s play. Knock me down, one by one, a mountain crumbled upon itself, the pieces separate but together, clanging and tumbling in a makeshift play created by the creator. Watch as the stumbling begins, as the one upon the next beats down to the final destiny of end.
For Today, at the end point you shall find me. The last to be fallen. The last alone. The singular hitting stone, when all else hit each other. Oh to be the starting point, the first, the beginning touched by your grazing hand. Though slapped, and forgotten and used for your design only, to still be shaken by your very hand, least the last dying domino in a line of soldiers forgotten.
Today, I bid you farewell, buried beneath the whole of me, siphoned and forgotten; and with each goodbye that comes and goes, resurfaces like the endless tides, I bid again, in dying breath; my last words the echo of my discernment wept and lost, my judgment buried, that which rests beneath shadow of hope, the darkened space forgotten where dreams die in the dungeon of invisible.
A short poem written before the previous selection, this morning; my first attempt to remove the angst inside. This is about confusion of emotions, of the confusion of being, of the not wanting to be seen and shaped by others as something I am not. It is about physical and mental pain. Before today, I didn’t say what my writing is supposed to be about. I think it is beneficial for the reader to take what they want from words and leave the rest. But for some reason, I needed to explain today. I don’t know why. I just do. Perhaps to make this life seem more real, and you more connected to me. I haven’t edited any part of this or changed it. It is a poem of thoughts and processing.
I’m on my couch, laptop in lap, a redundancy
I’m on the couch, hands hurting, as they do, with the onset of any suspicion
The body is up to something, some little bug or minor fixing
And thusly I am made captive to the lingering pain
Not right, not on, not balanced, and my frail substance bleeds
Calling out for the memory of form
The memory of childhood wholeness
I’m on the couch, and the clock ticks, his neighbor black fridge hums
Twelve Year Old Trivia: ^ I like to dance half-naked half-dressed with a pink hairbrush-microphone to this song. ^
Now the Serious Stuff…… Faucet Thoughts….
I need a brain drain, a faucet at the tip of one of my lobes that I can twist on and off (preferably without pain or damage), as to allow the excess energy splattering and bouncing about my mind to exit.
I imagine a thick flood of information all rushing down a canal and then rapidly caravanning into the corners, until at last, having entirely flooded the space, a small light appears in the distance, and all blabbering-goop charges forth in eager fashion in hopes of being the first to plunge out of a narrow pipe.
Alas, I have no faucet and no pipe…and so the faucet takes its form in the way of words: agreed upon symbols thrown together in distinct and exact order in an attempt to convey random images of the mind.
It’s not an easy task, using words. They are so limiting, yet so utterly delightful. I could eat them at times, some words, for their pure delicacy and taste, their richness, their potential, their rhythm, their purpose.
Other words I’d rather grind into the ground with spiked high-heeled shoes—red shoes preferably; though I have no idea why.
People trigger my thoughts.
I suppose I’m like a soul detective of sorts.
I sense things about my environment and people and animals to an extreme degree.
I can readily tell, within minutes of meeting someone, about that person’s worries, challenges, and battles. I can see the hidden secrets and sense the front a person puts on to protect him or herself. Sometimes people have a thick shield around them. Sometimes I sense an actual guard. When dealing with addiction, especially alcohol, there is sometimes no shield at all, but a pretend peek inside, where everything is perfect with no troubles.
Upon meeting a friend of a friend, I might tell my friend my first impressions of her friend, not in a gossiping or mean way, but strictly as analysis. Even after a two-minute conversation and a handshake, I can usually (so far always) give an accurate description of the person.
I can tell right away about the energy of a commenter on my blog, only through their words. I feel and hear their energy, and I hear messages , such as: sad, lonely, wanting, curious, angry, etc. I feel the sensations in my body at times. Sometimes I can’t shake the energy off of me.
I experience the following on a daily basis:
clairvoyance (clear seeing)
clairaudience (clear hearing)
clairempathy (sensing of emotional experience of others)
claircognizance (clear knowing or psychic knowing)
clairsentience (clear feeling) “Clairsentience relates to the sense of touch. It is the ability to perceive energy fields through physical sensations using Psychic senses. This includes auras, vibrations, and the presence of entities. When you get a “gut feeling” about something, you are using your clairsentience. What you’re doing is using your second chakra, the spleen center, to sense things on an emotional level. Clairsentience can pick up what other people are feeling. Clairsentience often works with another ability called precognition. Precognition is the ability to know what is going to happen in advance.” Source http://www.theintuitpathway.com/temple/claires.htm
Through clairaudience I hear my angels. They are a singular voice, primarily, the sound of my own inner voice. However the words are always uplifting, nonjudgmental, supportive and encouraging. Ultimately, they are my cheerleaders, advocates, protectors and validators. So far they have always been right. They laugh when I debate or try to change their ways. I am stubborn with them, and they treat me with unconditional respect and love. They remind me of my divine worth, but above all my equality with all, how I am no lesser and no greater. They tease me about my constant request for humility, and my constant worry I am not worthy enough in their eyes. They remind me I am human and to release the guilt and shame. They remind me that anything can change and that all transitions.
I have grown a lot in the understanding of my abilities in just the last few weeks. I understand that sometimes the worries and anxiety I have are simply not my own. Some of the images I see that I think are dread and fear of my own manifestation are actually a future flashing before my eyes. When I feel certain pains in my body, sometimes the pain is not my own. I am becoming more fine-tuned with my abilities, and as I tune in and analyze what is happening, I am finding more peace of mind.
I am now keenly aware of some of the knowings I have during my day. In just twenty-four hours I saw through visions and through sensing in my body the following events:
a person having a cold that involved continually dripping of the eyes and drainage of the nose, with the inability to stop the dripping; I saw this as a vision throughout the day of a person’s face with lines pouring out of the eyes and nose. (The person in question was a close friend’s daughter falling ill the next day. Because she has special needs, she is challenged by the task of nose blowing. Her eyes were also watering a lot.)
a person having a lump under their left armpit. I sensed this while standing at a mirror. I had the urge to feel beneath my left armpit for a lump; something I do not do and hadn’t done in years. (My good friend called me the next morning and said: “I just wanted to make sure you aren’t picking up on me and my energy, as I found a lump under my left arm, and I know how you worry and think it is your own body.”)
a sharp pulling and tugging and pain of my left arm, enough to make me gasp and take a pain reliever. A pain I hadn’t experienced in years and that went away by the next day. (A lost dog appeared at my door, moments after posting my cats and dogs post, who had an injured front left leg and was being pulled on a leash by a person searching for the dog’s home. My pain diminished in half upon seeing the dog.)
an inner voice saying I needed to buy a bath brush, and the actual bath brush visually popping out at me in the store aisle, as if glowing and calling my name. (I never buy bath brushes. When I got home my husband said he wanted a bath brush for Christmas; we’ve never owned one and he’s never requested one before.)
a vision of a flood of water near an electrical cord, a panicked feeling of electrocution. (Moments later I went upstairs to find a large puddle of water on the kitchen counter, a result of a spill, with an electrical cord in the center.) {In the past I would have thought I was being paranoid or overly fearful; now I recognize my feelings as a vision, as precognition.}
Sometimes I ask my angels for signs. This week, as I am quirky, I wanted to see the shape of an apple in an odd place. I was thinking like a walking, man-sized mascot apple or something like that. An unpredictable image that signified a certain relationship was safe and beneficial. My angels have the most remarkable sense of humor; as I was eating corn chips, I noticed the entire center of one chip was missing, except for an outline, and the missing piece was in the exact shape of an apple.
Yesterday, while in my sauna, I asked to see a sign of something flying outside my window. Not a butterfly, but something small and lovely. I have a very limited view from where I sit inside my sauna, but I can see the upper half of a tall pine tree. As I sat resting, I spotted a humming bird flying between the branches of the pine tree. It’s the first humming bird I’ve seen during the winters here.
Also, sometimes I ask for messages in the form of written word, and will open a book to find an answer to my soul’s desire. I recently was comforted by a passage from a Buddhist text. The message in summary said that although you are centered in self with acute awareness of life and energy, you are human and will still experience extremes of emotions.
I needed to know that my emotions were okay. I needed to be reminded that I am human.
I’m not quite sure why I’m sharing all of this today. I think I am being called to explore my abilities more, and to perhaps rekindle the vocation I began two years ago.
I’ve learned in the past couple of months to trust my body’s intuition. For instance, I focus on an idea for my future vocation or question a feasible goal, and then sense how these thoughts cause me to feel inside my body. I’ve learned to side-step logic and trust in my inner feelings. This has greatly reduced the pressure I place on myself mentally to make a decision. I have read and studied an abundant of works, and as a result have floating inside of me constant variants on what is the correct and incorrect way to respond, behave and choose. I have found that relying on all the endless data that feeds and scaffolds off of itself, is much more wearisome and exhausting than simply pausing, breathing in a thought, and then gently feeling how this thought feels. If the thought feels comforting without any degree of resistance, I then have a knowing that I am balanced and at peace in the decision. If I feel resistance of any form, I let the thought go with the intention of revisiting the thought, if and when needed, in the future. For the present I let my body remained balanced.
As of late, I have also noticed I have little to no anger for anyone, anything, or any event. I have moments of frustration, but usually that is once a day, if at all. I have no anger for myself, either. I have no worries about me as a person, beyond finding balance between my gifts and daily functioning. And even this is not so much a worry, but a careful observation.
I’ve also seemed to have developed, or rather awakened, a form of medical intuitiveness. A dear friend recently confided in me about her diagnosis of lupus. (I had a vision of lupus moments before she called me.) After a few conversations about the subject, I had a clear knowing. I informed her that during her upcoming appointment that the specialist would tell her that the blood tests were wrong and that she did not have lupus. I also told her that what concerned me most was her past diagnosis of Hepatitis C and that I believed that was either a wrong diagnosis or had disappeared. I would soon find that I was correct on both accounts.
My friend called, relieved, and said: “You should be a doctor.” I had to laugh and remind her that the doctors were the ones that were wrong to begin with.
And one last thought. I used to have a terrible time with criticism and rejection. Now I often do not react if I am “attacked” by words. In fact, just this week, twice I was able to step back from what I would deem mean statements and spend very little time and energy on the matter.
I am a reflection of light and love.
I have an inner core of purity, peace and goodwill.
How someone else choses to see me is their business, and their business alone.
I choose to keep my eyes focused on beauty.
~~~~
As I’m sitting in my bathtub, soaking up the dead sea salts and listening to a visualization sound-therapy selection on my I-Pod, and thinking how awesomely good the acoustics are in my bathroom, and floating somewhat out of my body, I realized: No wonder I’m fricken tired all the time….on top of having Aspie traits, I’m a non-stop psychic vending machine.
~~~~
This morning I was sitting on the couch, partaking in an intensely deep conversation with my significant other, regarding my complex logical perception of love. I am having eloquent revelations and profound understandings, and expressing myself with humility and clarity. Aglow with knowledge and inner light, I sit basking in the element of essence. Wow, connecting with spirit is awesome!
“Ding-Dong,” the doorbell rings. I jump off of the couch in fear, taking a defensive pose, crouching and speeding to the staircase, while screeching and giggling, “I have to run downstairs and hide!”
She entered gently, the kissing sunshine on her shoulders sweet, a baroness of beckoning light within my dimly lit threshold
I greeted her, the door man shy, and took my place at fair lady’s feet, the honey-milk of her scent upon me
My awakening came slowly, as the crimson rose blooms beyond time, opening bud after bud to her glory
She whispered, her words a chisel of feather soft, her eyes the ebony of compassion, her hand upon my surrendered shoulder
Touched, I wept, the tears inside cleansing wounds of sword, fractures of youth’s mourned merriment
My every cell moved, beholding this adorned child dressed in blue, the ocean maiden of the distant ages
Streams of aqua reborn, merged forward, pushing the heart of past into the baptismal of present, a forest of water at my door
Quaked, my very existence stood tall, quaked, the foundation of all truth and valor collapsed without fall, the boundaries dripping as honey, disappearing into the depths of hope
I faltered in thought, recalling my place, my duty, and traced the outline of her shadow, a maiden with endless treasure, the illusion of end marking entrance to eternity
‘I am home. I am home,’ the whispers came, a tapping upon the window of heart, an opening to the view of victorious
To have found the mirror of me, the echo of my existence, to have found the palm of palm, and coming of my own dawn
To watch as her sunrise awakens the world beneath my flesh, calling upon the beast to rise and devour with gaunt hunger what is served, dish upon dish
Beyond the cage I sat, wanting and waiting, my crying her own breath, my need fulfilled at the calling of her name
The spoken word, a spell upon my lips, a taste upon my soul, to behold the beauty unwrapped before me
To behold the mistress of my ache, the mistress of my time and making, the sun captured within the capsule of opened spirit
To kneel before the queen of my own mystery and bounty, and melt into the vision as one, my every wish to rest within her endlessly
Beyond captured, I retreat into gentle man’s cave, and even there the darkness dissipates, healing blood pulsating across the caverns
Everywhere is her redness, her sacrifice, her singing love, and I cannot but help to taste her, as the sugar-coated finger to mouth
For she is in me, about me, and beyond, her essence the chalice of my life, and I shall drink and drink until the ocean floor sits alone
The liquid of all siphoned into my open mouth, her jewels my own crown, her all, my answered prayer
‘Come, Sweet Lady,’ I cry, come through my doorway, and stay, rest at my side eternal angel, so I may rise again, complete within this union of you
Everyday Asperger's 