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.
with a turtle’s patience.
Circling endlessly amidst the black passage
of arrival and retreat.
Moon can shape shift
and puncture the confidant darkness.
The weaker sister of sun
it bleeds light even as it dwindles
to a fissure of fluorescence.
Black sky like a monk’s hood draped
over stars with squinted eyes.
Stewards lost,
exiled to overspread
the dark lair of the zodiac.
This silent outback where
light is uprooted and cast aside
beats like a tired clock uneven.
It dreams of sunlight passing so
it can follow like a parasite.
Tired of meandering in absence it
wants to live the speed of light and feel its directness.
Wishing to stay alive in light years
and not some recumbent eternity.
Desiring the sharp pain of life
to the dull, numbing outskirts of ancient space.
Darkness follows light like a tireless
wind that pours over tumbleweeds.
But it always seems to outlast the people
if not the light.
**********************
**********
*****
~~Secret Language
Night in bed
eyes closed, ears open,
listening to the secret life outside my window.
The liturgy of the nocturnal.
Sounds and rhythms of
swift-footed crickets
giving testimony to the trees that overlook
the native church like great archways
carved of Roman hands.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The intricate language of tiny animals
sweeping through the night air
unfaltering they hold me spellbound.
How can I sleep without an interpreter?
If only I knew what they were saying.
I could sleep again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
*************
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“““
One Day **** One day, out of this fleshy cocoon I will rise like a golden bird of silent wing graceful as the smoke of a fallen flame. I will dream no more of places hidden–secreted away in heaven’s cleft where the foot leaves no print. **** One day, I will walk in gardens holding hands with my creation and creator. We will touch one another like lovers torn by death to say goodbye. We will lay in one another’s arms until we awaken as one invisible to the other. ******** One day, I will isolate the part of me that is always present. I will dance with it like moonlight on water. I will hold it to myself in a longful embrace that beats perfection in the hymn of the Songkeeper. *********** One day, when I curl away inside myself I will dream of you this flesh-covered-bone of animal. I will yearn to know your life again. I will reach out to you as you now reach out to me. Such magic! Glory to covet the unknown! That which is is always reaching for the self that cheats appearances. Who dreams itself awake and asleep. Who knows both sides of the canvas are painted, awaiting the other to meld anew.
Missing ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Facing another evening without you I am torn from myself in movements of clouds, movements of earth spinning like the sure movement of lava as it rolls to sea. Yet when I arrive you are still gone from me 23 footsteps away; a cluster of punishment. A bouquet of the abyss. ******* When I look to the east I think of you softly waiting for the vines to abdicate their portion of your heart. So you can be chiseled out of the matrix with smooth hammer strokes from my hands. Freed of the coal, the black rot of untouched shoulders, you can open your eyes again flashing the iridescent animals, valiant vibrations of your rich spirit. ************** Centerpiece of my table I stare at you in candlelight, the windows behind, black in their immensity, only enlarge you. Making you more of what I miss. The procession of prophecies has entered me again casting doubt in my mind like rain on dead leaves. ********** I go among your body to feel the presence of your heart beating something golden spun from another world. You cannot feel me. I am invisible in all ways to you, but one. A reflection in the mirror. Beneath your eyes you see me dancing away the body. Dancing away the mind. Dancing away the incarnations of my absence.
The worst Sin towards our fellow creatures is not to hate them, but to be indifferent to them;
that’s the essence of INHUMANITY
****
a qUOTE BY George Benard Shaw
~~~~~๑❤๑~~~~~
************
There are three particular life principles that accelerate the transformational experience and help to align the human instrument with the Sovereign Integral perspective. They are:
1) Universe relationship through gratitude
2) Observance of Source in all things
3) Nuturence of life
There are so many layers of relative truth that if you listen to the language of externals, you will most likely abandon your own power in favor of the proclamation of language. Language is seductive to the ego’s drive for power and control, as well as the mind’s inclination to surrender to, and believe in, the language of externals. It can lure the unsuspecting into believing images and ideas–real or imagined–for the sake of holding individuals in bondage to a lesser truth, or keep individuals supporting the hierarchy when it no longer serves a purpose. The time is fast approaching when the veils of control at all levels of the hierarchy will be rendered obsolete by entities who are destined to pull down the veils and allow sovereign power to prevail over hierarchical power.
****************
When the individual applies these principles, their life experience reveals a deeper meaning to its apparently random events–both in the universal and personal contexts……..Read more bout the philosophy behind this poetry, painting and this music found in chamber 4. http://www.wingmakers.us/wingmakersorig/www.wingmakers.com/arrow/chambers/indexes/philo.shtml
where all the answers lay encoded in some strange dialect.
Symbols Undulating like Serpents restless for food.
~~~
If i was a windbone as a lambent seed
you would still the air, and I would fall into the thicket.
If i yearned for sweet water
you would pass me the bitter cup 😦
If i was an injured fawn you would flush me
from the cloister, corner me against cold stone,
and admire my fear
😦
~~~~~~~
Everywhere i steer i seek the look of love;
yet love humbles itself like a mannequin
changing its clothes to accomodate the dressmaker.
Underneath there are bandages of the beast.
Underneath there is a tourniquet of deliverance.
But beneath the shell there is Emptiness,
SO DEFIANT!
It is clothed in finery that neither dressmaker nor beast can touch
~~~~~~
YOU have mistaken my search as my soul!
Raking through it for clumps of wisdom,
you have found only what i have lost to you!
Held like rootless dreams
i will vanish in ur touch.
~~~~~
If u pass ur rake over this emptiness
you will feel clumps of my spirit.
You will find me like tiny pieces of Mirror Broken
apart yet still collected in one spot
Still staring ever skyward.
Still reflecting one mosaic image.
Still the accompanist of myself.
~~~~~~~~~~HALF MINE?~~~~~~~~~~~
When I see ur face I know u are Half mine
separated by the utmost care to remember all of you
When I undress my body I see that I am half yours
blurred by sudden flight that leaves
the eye wondering what angels carved in their hearts
to remind them so vividly of their home.
~~~~~~~~
When I see your beauty I know you are half mine
never to be held in a polished mirror
knowing the faithful hunger of our soul.
When I watch your eyes I know they are half mine
tracing a trajectory where sensual virtue is the very spine of us.
When I hold your hand I know it is half mine
wintered in kinship, it circles tenderness
beneath the moon and well of water when the feast is done.
When I kiss your lips I know they are half mine
sent by God’s genealogy to uncover us
in the delicious cauldron of our united breath.
~~~~~~~~~~~
When I hear you cry I know your loneliness is half mine
so deep the interior that we are lost outside
yearning to give ourselves away
like a promise made before the asking.
And when I look to your past I know it is half mine
running to the choke cherry trees
invisible to the entire universe we found ourselves
laughing in sudden flight
eyeing the carved initials in our hearts.
Sparing the trees.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
well, of course anyone that really knows me an my story for the last 5 years well, knows this one is directed at my lovely “blueangelwolf” once again sorry to say
😦
is what it is.although nothing is half mine 😦 especially the money i spent, and time and all MY LOVE …yeah right …MY LOVE…what a crime 😦 over an out frum Q
The WingMakers are a small team of Sovereign Entities that have designed time capsules that are catalytic in forming a Sovereign Integral perspective.
This well this internet well…..is like one big giant time capsule for me…
so enjoy the poetic piece here and the music to go along with it frum time capsule 2….
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. There is encoded in each of the time capsules, a system of languages that can lead the individual to their core expression. It is hidden because it is so powerful. And we will only lead the worthy to this power.
The Language of Innocence ….
When a river is frozen, underneath remains a current. When the sky is absent of color beneath the globe another world comes to light. When my heart is alone somewhere another heart beats my name in code that only paradise can hear. ********** Is my heart deaf or is there no one who can speak the language of innocence? Innocence, when words suffer meaning and gallop away in its presence. I have seen it. Felt it. I have loosened its secrets in the blushing skin when upturned eyes witness its home and never turn away. And never turn away. *********** There is this world of slumbering hearts and hollow love, but it cannot carry me to daylight. My craving is so different and it can never be turned away. Temptress Vision ************ A temptress vision has encircled me like a willful shadow of a slumbering dream. Is it the powerful light of purpose? If I squint with all my strength I may see it. Always must it be inside of me like a pilot fish inseparable from its host. It fearlessly drinks my essence. Such a bitter taste I muse. Spit it out upon your table of perfection. Compare this grain of sand with your galaxy. This spire of sorrow with your deepest eye. If my callous mind can see you, there are no interventions. No pathway away. Convergence. ************ I am a lock-picker. A tunnel-digger. A fence-cutter of the wicked watchers. A traveler that has sought the mystery that alludes all but the outlaws. The wild-eyed, unrelenting fools of purpose that remain outside the laboratory of wingless flight. ************** You are the eternal Watcher who lives behind the veil of form and comprehension, drawing forth the wisdom of time from the well of planets. You cast your spell and entrain all that I am. Am I just a fragment of your world? A memory hidden by time? A finger of your hand driven by a mind unfamiliar with skin. Touch yourself and you sense me. Visions wild with love. Splendor that beckons like a secret whisper of gladness spread on the winds by an infinite voice. The sound of all things unified. I am part of that voice. Part of that sound. Part of that secret whisper of gladness. ****************** This limitation must end in lucid flesh. The dream of sparks ascending quickening the cast of hope. Avoid the brand of passivity the signs complain. Shun manipulation before you are stained. Spurn all formula and write new equations in the language of sand. ************** Heed no other, nor listen to the seduction of holy symbols standing before the windows of truth. Define from a foreign tongue. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ These are the battered keys that have led me to unlocked doors. Doors that collapse at a mere breath and behind which lay more pieces to collect for the Holy Menagerie. The never-ending puzzle. ~~~~ All the stars in the sky recall the purpose of your hallowed light. Burn a hole through the layers. Peel all the mockery away. Enjoin the powers to answer this call: Bring the luminous vision hidden behind the whirling particles of the Mapmaker. Let it enter me like a shaft of light that enters a cave’s deepest measure. Ancient fires still burn in these depths. Who tends them? What eyes are watching? Waiting. Waiting for time’s flower to bloom. To submerge in the relentless subtlety that moves beyond my reach with a jaguar’s stealth. To dream of elder ways that leap over time and leave behind the puzzle of our making. ~~~~~~ O’ temptress vision you steal my hunger for human light. If there is anything left to hollow let it be me. If there is anything left to cage let it run free. If there is anything left to dream let it be our union. ******************
Compassion ~ sumthin more of da’ werlds inhabitants need but so few understand!
may all the threads be stuck as they decided by choice to stick me, may the karmetic realities they brew be thier drink for the eternity they rule over others on the planet with lies, and neglectful thoughtz 😦
Compassion
~~~~~~~~~~~
Angels must be confused by war.
Both sides praying for protection,
yet someone always gets hurt.
Someone dies.
Someone cries so deep
they lose their watery state.
*****
Angels must be confused by war.
Who can they help?
Who can they clarify?
Whose mercy do they cast to the merciless?
No modest scream can be heard.
No stainless pain can be felt.
All is clear to angels
except in war.
*****
When I awoke to this truth
it was from a dream I had last night.
I saw two angels conversing in a field
of children’s spirits rising like silver smoke.
The angels were fighting among themselves
about which side was right
and which was wrong.
Who started the conflict?
*****
Suddenly, the angels stilled themselves
like a stalled pendulum,
and they shed their compassion
to the rising smoke
of souls who bore the watermark of war.
They turned to me with those eyes
from God’s library,
and all the pieces fallen
were raised in unison,
coupled like the breath
of flames in a holy furnace.
*****
Nothing in war comes to destruction,
but the illusion of separateness.
I heard this spoken so clearly I could only
write it down like a forged signature.
I remember the compassion,
mountainous, proportioned for the universe.
I think a tiny fleck still sticks to me
like gossamer threads
from a spider’s web.
*****
And now, when I think of war,
I flick these threads to all the universe
hoping they stick on others as they did me.
Knitting angels and animals
to the filamental grace of compassion.
The reticulum of our skyward home.
*****
Quarksire 