Living in the in-between…

art by elke

Let’s live in the in-between,
in the spaces unseen…
Where nightbirds
lull us back to sleep,
and hearts immerse
in silver streams…

In the ambiance
of an overflow,
implanted with peace
we gladly grow,
and become
intimate
with translucent light,
expressed
in dreams
throughout the night…

we will hold
to eternal grace
look fear squarely
in the face…
and live in the in-betweens
where love’s harvest
is increased,
where fairies dance
and moonbeams shine,
and all life needs
is to take the time…

to breathe in
mystical sights…
an abundance
of faith will suffice…
living in the in-betweens,
where hope
really intervenes…
And when
we lay
our form
to rest,
in connection
we are truly blessed…


Art by Helke. ..

Shadow dancers…

shadow dancers 3

Shadow dancers
on the shore,
flowing with Earth’s encore,
gliding over silver sands,
wanderers
in graceful lands…

nimbly stepping
through
ocean mists,
keeping watch
while tides shift,
seeing beyond this mortal coil,
beyond chaos,
beyond turmoil!

Peering into mystical realms,
above the breakers,
past the swells.
Where darkness
gives way to light,
and every Earthling
reunites…

Keeping watch while I’m asleep…

“You know that place between sleep and awake, that place where you still remember dreaming? That’s where I’ll always love you. That’s where I’ll be waiting.”
― James V. Hart, Hook

time travellers

We have looked
for them
in places
between dreaming
and awake…

Our senses
were dulled
by the stories
we made up in our heads…

now we are rewriting
the narrative,
opening the heart
of lucid  vision,
until we are brave enough
to say it out loud
to strangers
to nay-sayers
to those who stole our dreams…

we will tell the stories
of courage
in human form,
and when the least of us
speaks
it will sound like
other-worldly dialects…

we will imagine our way,
out of the darkness
of our minds,
and become seers,
who straddle this world
and the next…

sages
from earthly realms,
time travelers,
agents
of the mystical,
existing in our dreams…
shamans of another time…

 

Bent in worship…

On the day when the weight deadens on your shoulders
and you stumble, may the clay dance to balance you.
― John O’Donohue, Anam Cara: A Book of Celtic Wisdom

bent in worship

bent from their
burdens,
shouldering their pain,
archipelagos of grief
joined in
refrain…
their tears were
as raindrops
of the crystalline kind…
heavy with sorrow
their hearts
were enshrined,
in the embers
of remembrance
scattered
on the winds,
in iridescent worship,
their light
was not dimmed…