Q's werld a werld of introspection retrospectyion complication, yet simplicity overiding all so to see the reality is only but to lewk upon it with a gentle gaze. Unto Infinity and Beyond.
Tag Archives: The angels were fighting among themselves
The gateway into your future is through the completion of this blueprint, and this blueprint is encoded deep within your species. At your root, you are not an immortal psychic impression, or mental echo, but rather, you are the faultless triune of First Source, Source Intelligence and the sovereign entity, colliding in a dance of energy that is evermore. Your mind must grasp the fullness of your true nature and depth of your being, or you will fall prey to the psychic impression and mental echo of your lesser self
Wingmakers 14
Empyream &
a Seperate Being
He walked a higher ground
like a soul untethered to human flesh.
Darkness implored–
demanded his searching stop
and match the drifting gait of others.
But his pathway unwound like a ball of string
sent upward
only to fall in a sentence of light.
Collisions with fate would unrail him
and send him the wishes of obscurity.
The lightning of desire.
The curse of empty dreams.
The witness to unspeakable horrors.
~~He would laugh at the absurdity,
yet aware of the dark ripples
that touched him.
Humanity was a creaseless sheet of blank paper
waiting to be colored and crumpled
into pieces of prey for the beast-hunter.
Why did they wait?
The palette was for their taking.
The “distance” betrayed them.
The shallow grave of the deep heart
killed their faith.
~~~~
He knew,
yet could not form the words.
Nor draw the map.
The ancient casts of the empyrean
withstood definition.
Paradise lost to the soundless blanket
of the clearest thought,
of the loneliest mind.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
***********
*******
~Separate Being~
************
Waking this morning, I remember you.
We were together last night
only a thin sheet of glass between us.
Your name was not clear.
I think I would recognize its sound,
but my lips are numb
and my tongue listless from the
climb to your mouth.
Your face was blurred as well,
yet, like a distant god you took your heart and hand and there arose within me a separate being.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
I think you were lonely once.
Your only desire, to be understood,
turned away by some vast shade
drawn by a wisdom
you had forgotten.
So you sang your songs
in quiet summons to God
hoping their ripples would return and gather you up. Continue you. Brighten your veins and bring you the unquenchable kiss of my soul.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Drunken by a lonely name
you stagger forward
into my nights, into my dreams,
and now into my waking.
If I try to forget you
you will precede my now.
I would feel your loss
though I can’t say your name
or remember your face.
I would awaken some morning
and long to feel your skin upon mine
knowing not why.
Feeling the burn of our fire
so clearly that names and faces
bear no meaning like a candle flicking its light to the noonday sun.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
***********************
The above is a result of me crashing and landing face first on da’ ground, Knowing sumtimes well, jest to get up off the ground is a good thing, even if recovery might be quite some time now :(…. oh well is what it is…….. Q
Your mind must grasp the fullness of your true nature and depth of your being, or you will fall prey to the psychic impression and mental echo of your lesser self
A tribute to both of my sons! with honor! and love! 4 ever!
My Son
My Son
~~~~~~~
My son is two.
I watch him walk
like a drunken prince.
With his body bare I can see
his soul better.
His shoulder blades
gesture like vestiges of wings.
His features stenciled upon pale flesh
by hands that have been before me.
***
He so wants to be like me.
His every movement like a dusty mirror
or awkward shadow of a bird in flight.
Every sound an echo heard.
Every cell pregnant with my urges.
But my urge is to be like him.
To return to childhood’s safe embrace
and certain honor.
***
If I return to this place
I hope my eyes will look again upon his face
even until his blades are wings once more.
Until I have circled his creaturehood
and know every hidden cleft
where I have left my print indelible
unable to be consumed.
Until all that he is
is in me and our hands are clasped, forged,
entwined, in voiceless celebration.
***
Until we are alone like two leaves shimmering
high above a treeless landscape
never to land.
Nameless Boy
Nameless Boy
~~~~~~~~~~
Beyond the frontier
where borders blur into unknown thoughts
there is a nameless boy–
a drop of pure human light.
Through narrow cracks in the splintered fence
I watch his innocence with envy,
searching for the right meaning of his movements.
The twilight of his smile
nourishes my heart
like crumbs of God’s light.
A longing in my mouth to speak,
to weep,
and gather this child into my arms
and encipher his nature into mine.
Through the exchange of eyes–
glances, purloined and routed into blindness,
our language annulled.
I can only grope towards him
with antenna thoughts
that dance in praise of his youthful beauty.
***
I am waiting for stones to bloom.
For venomous skies to wander into oblivion.
For tracks to emerge like dust in a beam of light.
***
Life’s clever poison
is closing the gate.
The cracks are mended–the vision expunged.
And the nameless boy dissolves,
for there was no earth inside him.
..I have held a vigil for lucidity
out in the horizonless fields where nothing shines
but the light of my fire
and the silver disk of the endless night.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Suddenly, it’s clear that I’m alone in the wilderness
without human eyes to reach in to.
Alone with my treasure of sounds
in the pure silence of arrival…
low an slow
Wingmakers
I am destined to sit on the riverbank
awaiting words from the naked trees
and brittle flowers that have lost their nectar.
A thousand unblinking eyes
stare out across the water
from the other side.
Their mute voices seek rewards of another kind.
Their demure smiles leave me hollow.
**
Am I a perpetual stranger to myself?
(The thought brands me numb.)
Am I an orphan trailing pale shadows
that lead to a contemptuous mirror?
Where are these gossamer wings that my
destiny foretold?
I am waiting for the river to deliver them to me;
to lodge them on the embankment
at my feet.
*
What? why ? where? when ..? 🙂
*
My feet are shackles from another time.
My head, a window long closed
to another place.
Yet, there are places
that salvage the exquisite tongue
and assemble her wild light
like singing birds the sun.
I have seen these places among the stillness
of the other side.
Calling like a lover’s kiss
to know again what I have known before;
to reach into the Harvest
and leave my welcome.
***
These thoughts are folded so neatly
they stare like glass eyes fondling the past.
I listen for their guidance
but serpentine fields are my pathway.
When I look into the dark winds
of the virtual heart
I can hear its voice saying:
“Why are you trapped with wings?”
And I feel like a grand vision inscribed in sand
awaiting an endless wind.
**
**
Will these wings take me
beneath the deepest camouflage?
Will they unmask the secret measures
and faithful dwellings of time?
Will they search out the infinite spaces
for the one who can define me?
*****
Wings are forgotten by all who travel with their feet.
Lines have been drawn so many times
that we seldom see the crossing
of our loss though we feel the loss of our crossing.
We sense the undertow of clouds.
The gravity of sky.
The painless endeavor of hope’s silent prayers.
But our wings shorn of flight
leave us like newborn rivers that babble over rocks
yearning for the depths of a silent sea.
******
I have found myself suddenly old.
Like the blackbirds that pour
from the horizon line,
my life has soared over this river searching for my wings.
There is no other key for me to turn.
There is no other legend for me to face.
Talking to flowers and gnarled trees
will only move me a step away–
Invisible wallz
when I really want to press my face against the windowpane
and watch the wing makers craft my wings.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
I have found the ancient mirror
that leads me.
I have seen its ruthless eyes
that always stare,
burrowing their way to the crown I wear.
I have sensed the holy fire
like a blazing cocoon
that offers no judgments
amidst its power strewn.
I have felt the innocent light.
Of clarity in flight over native land
where we are birthed apart
from one command.
*
I have touched the gentle eye that outlasts me.
The huge patience upon my brow.
I have offered all my earthly wisdom
for the symptoms of its tongue;
to drop its seeds into the fields that I plow.
I have seen destiny’s path
gathering its flock
for the journey of endless spaces.
I have watched futures fall with eyelids closed
and the gnawing tears of torn places.
I have seen the Tribe of Light
return the clock to the black pocket
where all divisions occur.
Where weeds secure the humble land
of fires unlit, yet pure.
*
I have heard the masters of masters speak
to every cell of my body;
cutting new pathways in flesh
like fear’s executioner.
I have watched the galaxies twirl
like star wheels that spiral to the thought
of a holy vision.
I have felt my spirit follow
the one sound that is free.
*
I have vanished before.
I have taken this body to an inner place
where none can see.
Only feelings can hear the sound of this space.
This sacred place alone
has brought me here to recover the thread.
To see the weaving dance that calls my name
in a thousand sounds.
That draws my spirit
in a single, perfectly round,
circle.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Awake and Waiting
.Awake and Waiting
*
Child-like universe emerging from darkness,
you belong to others not I.
My home is elsewhere
beyond the sky
where light pollinates the fragile borders
and gathers the husk.
In the quiet of the desert floor
my shell lingers in the pallid dusk
of a starved garden.
What holds me to this wasteland
when others clamor for shadows
and resist the vital waters?
Where the ripening magnet
holds us blind.
*
Far away,
kindling the presence of a timeless world
hunting for memories of a radiant love;
wingless creatures
tune their hearts to the key of silence.
It is there I am waiting.
Alone.
~~~~~~~~~~
O’ Paradise shore
give me the heart to bear.
Give me the lamp that sings at night.
Give me the wings to strive against wind.
Give me the smile to translate life into light.
*
Time obliterates the human moment.
No one is absolved
while beauty burns to charred ash
too frail to last
too secret to call.
I will see clearly again
past lives coarsened by time’s reign.
My light will retake its wings
its evergreen roots will embrace the sane earth
once again.
And this tiny fragment,
spinning in silence among giant orbs unseen
will resolve my soul and help me find
the one heart awake and waiting..
~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Open me.
Take me from here to there.
Let the wind blow
my hair and the earth’s skin touch me.
*Open me like broken bottles
that bear no drink
yet think themselves worthy of the trash man.
Open me to the clans from which I sprout.
Are they colors separated, cast apart
like memories of drunkenness?
Open me to Africa, Asia, America, Australia.
Open me like a package
of mystery left on your doorstep
in the sweetness of laughter.
*
Open me to the crudely made lens of love
that screams to be of human hands
and lips.
Open me to the glance
that comforts strangers like the tender overture
of a mourning dove.
*
Is the wisdom of horses mine
to harness?
Is the muscle of wolves
lawless or the healer of sheep?
Is the black opal of the eye
the missing link we all seek?
*
Open me to the authors of this beaten path
and let them flavor it anew.
Bring them flecks of the rumored and rotten
slum that waits downstream.
Show them the waste of their watch.
The shallow virility that exterminates.
The ignominy that exceeds examination.
*
Open me to the idols of the idle.
Let me stare open mouthed at the herdsmen
who turn innocence into fear.
Is the plan of the sniper to uncivilize
the nerveless patch of skin
that grows unyielding to pain?
*
Open me to the stains
of this land that original sin cannot explain.
Let these symptoms go
like dead, yellow leaves fumbling
in swift, guiltless currents downstream.
*
Downstream where the slum
lies in waiting.
Downstream where the idols’ headstones
are half-buried in muddy rain.
Downstream where animal tracks
are never seen.
Downstream where
the lens of love is cleaned with red tissue.
Downstream where the herdsmen
herd their flock and beat the drums
promising a new river that never comes.
*
Downstream there lives
a part of me that is sealed like a paper envelope
with thick tape.
It watches the river like the underside of a bridge
waiting to fall if the seal is broken.
To plunge into the current when I am opened
by some unforgiving hand unseen.
To be drawn downstream
in the gravity of a thousand minds
who simply lost their way.
A thousand minds that twisted the river
away from earth’s sweetness
into the mine shaft of men’s greed.
*
So it must be.
So it must be.
*
Open me to the kindness
of a child’s delicate hand when it reaches out to be held.
Let it comfort me
when my bridge falls and the swift, guiltless currents
pull me downstream
where all things forgiven are lost.
Where all things lost are forgiven.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
What is Found Here
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
What is found here
can never be formed of words.
Pure forces that mingle uncompared.
Like dreams unspoken when first awoken
by a sad light.
*
What is found here
can limp with one foot on the curb
and the other on the pavement
in some uneven gait
waiting to be hidden in laughter.
*
What is found here
can open the swift drifting of curtains
held in mountain winds
when long shadows tumble across like juries
of the night.
*
What is found here
can always be held in glistening eyes.
Turned by silence’s tool of patience.
Like feelings harbored for so long
the starward view has been lost.
************
Memory, like a root in darkness,
piercing light with its stem has found me.
Ordering my world
like architecture of feelings
bound to you,
held for you as shields of hope.
In the dispersion of love,
identical throbbing
has been our call
answered in the sweetest caress two can share.
And you wonder if ecstasy will diminish us
like rain the sun or
wind the calm.
When we know one another
in the deepest channel of our hearts
we can only utter one word
cast from this stone’s mind: forever.
Forever.
********
When winter calls my name
in the highest desert of light,
I will not despair because I know you
in the deepest channel of my heart
where I understand the word, forever.
Instantly healed by your caressing lips
that unmasks all that has tortured me.
The panting of mouths
tired but astir in passion’s flame
can only cease when I have entered you
forever.
I carry you in this flame,
emerald-colored from my dreams of you
beneath the trees within
where your beauty consumed the sun
and snared my soul so completely.
I cannot truly know you apart from a throne.
************
Spirits made to shine beyond the din
of boorish poets
that strike flint below water and cry without passion.
I have known you forever in lonely streets
and the thundered plain.
In wilted villages and cool mountain terraces.
I have watched all of you
torn open to me speaking like a river
that moves on forever.
And I have waited
like the greedy mouth of an ocean
drawing you nearer to my lips
so I can know you forever
as you empty into me abandoned of all fear.<
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Of Luminous Things
***************************
Of luminous things I have so little experience
that I often think myself small.
Yet when I think of you and your luminous ways
my being swells with hope and prayers
that you will permit the flames to grow.
****************************
In mercy, we are torn apart into separate worlds
to find ourselves over and over
a thousand times aching for the other half.
To dream of nothing but the One between us.
******************************
Of luminous things I have squandered none
nor have I held them to my heart and asked them
to dissolve into me.
Yet when I think of you, I desire only this.
And if you disrobed your Self and watched it
watch you, you would see me as clearly as I am.
Not small and unworthy.
Unafraid of fear.
Not uncertain like empty space.
But luminous like white light before the prism.
************************
In my thoughts I hold your heart
sculpting away the needless
for the essence.
And when I find it
I will hold it to my heart and ask it
to dissolve into me.
I will know of luminous things
that hurtle through time
bringing us the uncharted, unfathomable
desire we have never spoken.
Words are not curious enough to say their names.
Only love can weep their identity,
and I am so perfectly defenseless to its music
***********************************
Quark is jest another guy defenseless to denial, thievery, neglect
an shameful wayz ; it jest is what it is !
when humans hurt on other humans,
Once again…don’t let that be U now 🙂
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Open mind Longing with an Energetic heart!
************
So another Mind Open & a Longing:
Wingmakers Chamber 8 poetry music and philosophy today frum Q
i am defenseless to denial thievery and neglect
it jest is what it is
when ya hurt on other humans,
don’t let that be U now 🙂 rememebr 8 is supposed to be great!tip click on music link at bottom of page then listen to while u read resta post-it
********************************************
Another Mind Open
~~~~~~~~~~
There was a fire where smoke gathered
and danced like rivers without gravity
to the rattle of drums.
~~~~~~~~~~
Sometimes I would look inside the smoke
but it curled away and covered itself
with a cloak so opaque I could only cry.
It became the mask of its consumption.
The dream of its new life.
The victorious skin always changing
yet everlasting.
~~~~~~~~~~~
There was a fire last night
that proclaimed news of a newer testament
that drinks tears, lies, vile words, even
the deep fears that linger underneath
the turncoat.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
I usually lurch away when it calls.
To me, it burns too cold
like a skinwalker lost in a body
devoured by time.
Sometimes I would dream it alive
and it would blaze–a vibrant sun–
more durable than a grave.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
In times of stillness
it would speak like a codicil of some lidless dream
that words could not preserve.
“The time has come to lift your gaze
from the fire’s brightness
and cast shadows of your own.”
The words would echo into oblivion
like stars lost in the swell of the sun’s awakening.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
In these flames I see my
consumption fit and proper.
In its smoke
I am stored away like so many jars
in a broom closet.
Waiting to flee.
Drawing my feet to oppose the floor.
Struggling to reach the door inside these jars
of sealed air.
~~~~~~~~~~
Stories escape the writer’s hand
and pursue me as though I alone held their vigil.
Their very soul.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When indeed these stories have never been told.
They have never found words
to hold though they ceaselessly try.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Fires blind nature.
They invest their life in her death.
But the end is always beginning
toward another end.
And the dreams of the untold
are always pursuing another mouth,
another hand,
another mind open.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sometimes I look to the errant expression of hope,
and ask it to bring its flames deeper into my heart.
To burn a clear sense of purpose.
To burn away the fool’s crevice
and enshroud me in its skin of smoke.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sometimes I offer myself to these flames
and know they listen.
Devising my world.
Reality coalesces around their finery
like a tower of glass enclothes a shell of steel.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sometimes I feel the flames send me
words, notes, tones.
Enchantment.
Products of another kind.
Tiny crucibles of earth that burn so brightly
they can blind the sun’s creatures of whimsy.
~~~~~~~~~~
And sometimes, without even thinking,
I peek into these flames
when the smoke peels away for an instant.
There, behind the mask,
is my future.
Our future.
The future.
The present in another world.
Calling out for another mouth,
another hand,
another mind open.
***************************************
**********************************
**********************
2 poems an music an some philosophy frum chamber 7
Chamber 7 Wingmakers Poetry Share of da day! Wingmakers Time Capsule New Mexico Site… ~~~~~~~~~~Da idea is to listen to the music here as ya read the poetry below 🙂
enjoy 🙂 Q
~~~~~~~~~~ Union ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ You are not here. In this moment all that exists is here. But you are not. There are so many footprints leading to my door. Let us enter, they say. We cannot sleep in the desert it is too cold. Our tears will dry too fast. Our ears will hurt from the silence. Let us in. And so I gather them all up, swing wide my door, and step aside as they enter hoping they will lay in peace beside my fire. ***************** You were not among them. I looked everywhere for your face and saw only mimicry. The blind eye buried behind brain searching for your heart. An antenna so alert there is a peculiar nearness of you flying inside my body. I can hold this like a tiny bird in my hands; fragile, vulnerable, waiting for my move to decide its fate. ******************* You are not here. I wish I could reach your skin, remove the camouflage tearing it away like black paper held before the sun as a shield. Unbundle you from your other lives and distill you in my now. You are my last love, my final embrace of this world and all the others that drop their prints at my door are dimmed by your approaching steps. *************** I can see you will be here soon. There is victory in my heart and something invisible yet massive wants to speak. Reminding me of you and your coming. Quick, I plead, give me your lips. Give me your womanly tenderness that understands everything so I may lose myself in you and forget my loss. ***************** If you were here, I would tell you this secret. But you would need to be staring up at the stars when I told you, held within my arms feeling the earth rise up beneath you like a holy bed. You would need our union to be your ears. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Like the Songs of Whales ***************************************** Your voice lingers when it speaks like rippling heat over desert floor. It draws my heart and I find myself leaning toward its source as though I know it will take me where you always are. It draws me near to your breath-the spiracle that holds the words of home. It draws me to the blanket you hold around your soul you so willingly share. ****************** If you were to dive below the waters where the whales sing their songs into the gathering of deep currents that pull our courage along, channels that flow free of worldly levels, you would find me there. Listening to the voice I hear in you. Feeding my heart in the waters of deep blindness where currents flow mindful of you and your spirited ways. ********************* Sometimes I listen so perfectly I hear your soft breath forming words before they are found by you. Before you can bring them from the deep blindness to your heart. ******************* I wish I could take your hand and let it hold my heart so you could see what I know of you. So you could know where we live where we always are. And you could pull your blanket of words around us and I could simply listen to your voice that honors words like the songs of whales
Now fer many folk or people well, now,.,,Time is the only factor that distorts this otherwise clear connection between the individual and Universal Entity. Time intervenes and creates pockets of despair, hopelessness, and abandonment. However, it is these very “pockets” that often activate the Source Codes of the entity and establish a more intimate and harmonious relationship with the Universal Entity. Time establishes separation of experience and this creates doubt in the Universal Entityís system of fairness and overarching purpose. In turn, this creates fear that the universe is not a mirror but rather a chaotic, whimsical energy. of life and perceive and express their personal interpretations of the Universe of Wholeness. They require only the time and intention to develop their own interpretations. And this is precisely what all the great spiritual leaders have taught. Life’s deeper meaning is not an absolute to be experienced by the chosen few, but an evolving, dynamic intelligence that wears as many faces as there are life forms. No life form or species has the exclusive portal into the Universe of Wholeness in which Prime Creator expresses ITSELF in all ITS majesty. The portal is shared with all because Prime Creator is within all things.
The great spiritual leaders of terra-earth have all, in their own way, interpreted the Universe of Wholeness and humanity’s role therein. In so doing, their interpretations, because they were articulated with authority and depth of insight, became a target of debate among various subgroups of the hierarchy. This debate and inquiry process creates a polarity of belief. A sympathetic constituency will emerge to defend and embellish their particular leader’s interpretation, while everyone else will hold it in contempt of previously held beliefs.
Muzyka Hakomi Komory 7 wprowadza energetykę wyższych wymiarów poprzez użycie egzotycznych rytmów, zawiłych melodii, pasaży medytacyjnych, warstwowanych alikwotów, poezji mówionej, oraz starożytnych mantr w ich oryginalnych językach. Owe pejzaże dźwiękowe inspirują i rezonują z naszą najgłębszą tęsknotą zbliżenia się do boskości w naszym wnętrzu. Hakomi Project 7-12 to bardzo wysokie wibracje, które zwiększają nasze postrzeganie rzeczywistości i wprowadzają naszą świadomość w wyższy stan częstotliwości
The WingMakers are a small team of Sovereign Entities that have designed time capsules that are catalytic in forming a Sovereign Integral perspective. Each time capsule is, in actuality, a selection system that attracts specific entities to utilize their human instrument in wholeness. This develops their sixth and seventh sense, which enables them to learn how to step out of time and the hierarchyís control. When they can do this, they can design the synthesis model of existence within terra-earthís hierarchical system. These entities will be transforming time-space universes from ladders of consciousness to inclusions of Source Reality. In other words, Source Reality will be extended into time-space universes, and all life forms therein will experience this extension through a new hierarchical structure that is completely aligned with Source Intelligence. What some call “heaven on earth” is merely an echo-realization of this impending future time. What is truly bearing down on the time-space universes is the expansion of Source Reality through the accessibility of Source Intelligence information to all entities regardless of form or structure. Let there be no mistake, however, that the fulfillment of the Primal Blueprint is indeed the direction all entities are traveling. While entities of all levels are bestowed free will within their own realities, they are not, as aspects of Source Reality, given free will to choose their ultimate destiny. The origin of entities is Source Intelligence, and it is Source Intelligence that determines destiny as well as origin. Still, entities are provided tremendous latitude of choices to propel themselves from origin to destiny and re-emerge into an expanded version of Source Reality with a renewed vision of their identity. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~
2 more poems1 more day of another spiritually clipping Q’s wingz..an binding me infinitly to the ……
Imperishable
********** Through this night I have slept little. My eyes, closed like shutters with slats that remain open, wait to invent dreams of some charred reality. I sense you, but no weight on my bed. No shift or creaking other than my own restlessness. ********** Wandering words self-gathered, self-formed, and released to the night like a mantra slowly drowned in music. Your presence grew with the music devouring it in silence. You came to me so clear my senses aroused in electric storms of clarity. The buzz of mercury lamps alongside rutted roads, shedding their weightless light. *********** In all of this waiting for you no fortress or foxhole bears my name. I lay on the Savannah staring at the sun hoping against hope it blinks before I do. My wounded cells, tiny temples of our mixture, have weakened in your absence. I can feel them wail in their miniature worlds. My feet resist their numbness, deny them their war. ************ As I lay here alone waiting to be gathered into your arms, I ask of you one thing, remember me as this. Remember me as one who loves you beyond yourself. Who pierces shells, armor, masks, and everything protecting your spirit in needless fervor. Remember me as this. As one who loves you unmatched by the deepest channels that have ever been forged. Who will love you anywhere and always. ********** And if you look very closely at my love you will not find an expiration date, but instead, the word, imperishable. **********
Of This Place !
Her heart ran in the wilds of deserted plains. Sun-etched land barren of clouds and singing water. If she listened closely her hand would call and signal its thoughts upon her brow. But in this place she could only offer her arms to the sky like a tree its branches and a flower its leaves. ******** In this dusty basin, silence gathered like smoke clearing the mind of the scoundrel. The infidel of thoughts. Blots of yellow leaves and white bark could be seen hiding in pools of life surrounded by red rock spires. Clustered sand monuments held together by some other life form. She wasn’t sure. Perhaps one life is the same as another only tilted sideways. Caught from underneath by some invisible hand that animates even the coldest stone of this place. ****** A smile emerged and perched upon her face drinking the sun’s clear ways. She could spear a million miles of air in a glance and send the window of her flesh into the cloudless sky. Upon this ocean a hawk sailed ever closer. She watched the silver speck spiral overhead dreaming through its eyes. Feeling the winds gild her wings in the softest fold of time. A tree of pine sent its sky roots deep within the air to weep its sweetness. She entered, gliding through branches to every needle in their factory of air. ************ So strange to feel the pull of earth in flight, but she knew the antagonism well in the splendor of this place. ********* She knew it had settled deep, lodged like permanent ink in the heart of her. Under skin, muscle, bone it fought the single path. What madness calls her away? What dream is stronger than this? What heart beats more pure? ********* Of this place, it is so hard to know which is host and which is guest. Which is welcome, which is pest. Which is found and which is lost. Which is profit, which is cost. ********** She gave her prayers to the skypeople and waited for a cloud– her signal to leave. She should return home before dusk settles in and the golden eyes peer out against the black code. In a single breath she held the ancient ways that never left. She turned them inside out and then outside in. Again and again. Waiting for her signals in the sky. If not a cloud… then perhaps a shooting star. (Besides, it was too dark for clouds anymore.) ********** When the first star fell she held her breath afraid she would miss its spectral flight. She wondered with whom she shared its final light. What other eyes were heaven bound in that secret moment? Was this their signal home as well? And what was it they found buried so deep in a whisper of light that none can tell? ********** She waited with solemn eyes for more stars to fall, to gently sweep her away from the magnets of this place. If she listened to her hand it would scratch a sign in the sand for another to take her place. It would touch the land in honor of its grace and wisdom, and become a tree, rock, hawk, or flower. ~~~~~~~~
The WingMakers are a small team of Sovereign Entities that have designed time capsules that are catalytic in forming a Sovereign Integral perspective. Each time capsule is, in actuality, a selection system that attracts specific entities to utilize their human instrument in wholeness. This develops their sixth and seventh sense, which enables them to learn how to step out of time and the hierarchyís control. When they can do this, they can design the synthesis model of existence within terra-earthís hierarchical system. These entities will be transforming time-space universes from ladders of consciousness to inclusions of Source Reality. In other words, Source Reality will be extended into time-space universes, and all life forms therein will experience this extension through a new hierarchical structure that is completely aligned with Source Intelligence. What some call “heaven on earth” is merely an echo-realization of this impending future time. What is truly bearing down on the time-space universes is the expansion of Source Reality through the accessibility of Source Intelligence information to all entities regardless of form or structure. Let there be no mistake, however, that the fulfillment of the Primal Blueprint is indeed the direction all entities are traveling. While entities of all levels are bestowed free will within their own realities, they are not, as aspects of Source Reality, given free will to choose their ultimate destiny. The origin of entities is Source Intelligence, and it is Source Intelligence that determines destiny as well as origin. Still, entities are provided tremendous latitude of choices to propel themselves from origin to destiny and re-emerge into an expanded version of Source Reality with a renewed vision of their identity. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Special Note: For a translation of this inspiring philosophy into everyday English, click here. For how the original WingMakers website was strangely changed, click here.
One skin may hide another,
I remember this from a poem when I
launched a fire across a field of deadness.
At least, to me, it seemed dead.
I felt like a liberator of life force
renewing the blistered and dying grasses.
Actually, more weeds than grass,
but nonetheless, the flora had flat-lined.
I peeled back skin with holy flame
and brought everything to black again
as though I called the night to descend.
From blackness will arise a new skin
cresting green architecture from a fertile void.
********
As the flames spread their inviolable enchantment
I saw your face spreading across my mind.
Remember the fire we held?
I hoped it would unfurl a new skin
for us as well.
I still hold this hope.
Forever it will roam inside me
invariant to all transformations and motions.
************
One person may hide another,
but behind you, love is molting a thicker skin
than I can see through.
No flame can touch its center.
No eyes can browse its memory.
I want nothing behind you in wait.
Seconds tick away like children growing
in between photographs.
I will not forget you in the changes.
Cursed with memory so fine
I can trace your palm.
I can inhale your sweet breath.
I can linger in your arms’ weight.
I can hear your exquisite voice
calibrate life with celestial precision.
****************
One purpose may hide another.
I heard this as the fire died out
to reveal the scent of the wet earth
and growing things.
I could feel my love decompose
returning to the uninhabited realm
where it belongs.
Where all hearts belong when
love is lost, and the code of the mute,
coiled in fists that pound,
reveal the wisdom of another.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Life Carriers
~~~~~~~~~
Life carriers spawn in the primal waters
of a giant embryo.
Their progeny will settle in human dust.
Pieces of clay
with tiny thoughts of flight.
Knife-points veiled in turbid cloaks
that shun the light of a tranquil star.
**************
In the remote wilds the life carriers
emerge and perch upon
the shoulders of gray stones.
They signal their desires to fly,
but their homes are suited
for the comforts of rain and earth.
The sky must wait.
(The dirt companion smiles.)
**********
Circles break.
Barriers overrun.
Life carriers deny their ancient pull
from the ground.
Wings sprout like golden hair
sinuous with nature’s artifice.
Ragged feet are left behind.
The earth replaced with vivid sky.
Gravity shines its menacing stare
to hold them
with assertive hands.
*******
Homeless cages
are left to rot.
To sink behind the groundless sky.
Earthen faces have dropped their smiles
and lost their smell of fresh dirt.
The dream of flight
has invaded somber walls–
life carriers have bounded
to the other side.
There they meet the next rung
of the endless ladder,
and trade their wings for wisdom’s eye.
“““http://www.wingmakers.us/wingmakersorig/www.wingmakers.com/arrow/chambers/poetry/poem5.shtml“““
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