Love Bless You

allyouneedislove

Love = God

If God’s original intent was to be perfect love for creation, then does it not make sense that Love, in name, is vain? Because, it created itself to be adored; in fact it requires adoration and glorification. It means that without the nurturing, cherishing, and honor done to those loved, it kills the very thing it proclaims to protect.

This is particularly accurate in relationships. If one or both allows life, possessions, or other things to come in between two people whom love each other, that love can rapidly become resentment, frustration, and anger. But when time is spent to prioritize the bond shared between two people, love does, indeed, flourish. So in this sense, love is not above wanting or needing to be appreciated.

But then what of the flowers that know nothing else but to be beautiful? Or a worm that worships at the flower’s roots? Or the bees that tend to the needs of beauty without a thought to why they pollinate the face of roses, daisies, and daffodils as certainly as they do the dandelions? Are they proof of the love we are meant to experience? Or are they merely energy used to engage us in questions of our own worthiness to be loved?

Love = Mortality

However, the beauty we are gifted with all around us are all reminders of a darker fare. Everything is a reminder of our own mortality. We can witness the cycles, seasons, and lifespans of many things around us. They are all preparing for our return to our own place of death; our own return to the stars.

We are constantly reminded by these living/sentient beings that our time here ends. They remind us that, just as a frond pushes towards the sun to work in the symbiotic ancient growth of life and beauty, so will it return to the earth.

We see but do not accept. Even in our known mortality, we allow the people we love to fall away from us. We forget to nourish the very roots from which we have grown. We build fragile connections through various addictions or meaningless distractions. We find so many ways to keep from seeing the truth of our energies.

We can do the same towards those we love. We can “kill” them with our neglect. Assuming, as with life, they will always be there. Maybe we view those we love as possessions which drives a wedge deep into the love we’re born to be. We may also place undue expectations on our loved ones, demanding that they comply with our own ideal despite their own person. These acts tear us from love. Denying they are also mortal locks us into taking one another for granted. We ignore the facts laid out all around us as proof we will also die.

Love = Holiness

It is only when we understand that we are created, born, and exist to be divine love that we can embrace our innate holiness in service to one another. This is, in it’s pure state, a declaration of love of self. It affords us a view of our own energy bottled in a different package. By igniting our own holiness, we are taught that although we are unique, our own being becomes one with each encounter.

There are many reasons we may deny others the love we are destined to give. We may be teaching our divine self where we most need to heal. We may be rejecting the lesson we’re meant to learn. We may also reject others because the lesson has already been accomplished, has already been learned and processed.

Just as we may reject opportunities in accordance to how we feel we are, or more importantly, if we believe we are worthy of the gift presented. Even the poor of spirit wish, whether consciously or not, to be cherished, admired, even adored which lends heavily to the hypothesis that we are all divine; all forms of God of which we are, by the blessing of our birthright, born to Love.

Our Mother

Mother, our Mother, teach us

for we are ignorant of your wisdom.

Mother, our Mother, swaddle us

within your fleshy womb

Allow us to absorb your breath

for when we are reborn,

Nourishing from your ample breast,

We are destined your heart sworn.

We will worship you with deepest reverence.

We will adorn ourselves with your resplendence.

Mother, our Mother, sing to us

the songs of your ancient blood

So we may learn the rhythm of your sustaining love

Hearth Deep

A shelter of spirit built with time

offers sweet haven, peace of mind

with fears the earthen floor is drenched

Cleansing years of neglectful stench

Envelopes of secrets kept

Also fall to be up swept

Hours and eons, weeks and years

Diamond value on wasted tears

Heart to spirit, hand to hand

Walking through love’s promised land

Woven together with bountiful mirth

Bound by cord of love’s rebirth

An observation of fear

Clicking bones against the concrete door

while oozing o’er the apathetic floor

Walls built from anger, boredom, xenophobia, and greed

Remove the anchors of bad hombre seed

Shackle the voiceless, the mindless sheep

there are no secrets that they won’t keep.

The taunts and jeers of the third grade rhetoric

are below the belt deplore-

able or not the iron is hot to brand the law-

less the “L”, the ostrich ass with head under sand-

man’s spell only to awaken to the bloody call to war.

The one that robs the mothers of their children dressed for duty

camouflaged in patriotic glory, flying under half-mast flags

mourning the deaths of people at church,

children at school,

date night at the movies.

The bones don’t lie as often as people do, or he does

Counting crimes on a rosary made of tarnished silver spoons

False notions of emotional devotion, void of solution

Blessing the anointed red buttons

Cross forehead to chest, shoulder to shoulder

Allowing the inner circle to bleed the child bride

while singing praises of the endured horrors on thin skin

Dragging age spots over youth as if an elixir

for the bargain basement price of forty silver

while the Roamin’ fingers applaud politely

with tiny hands bejeweled with the blood of slaves

adorned in robes made from the entrails of the poor

And it is written in the book of ends, now is the time.

Summer’s End

The season of temperate waves crashing

The taste of sultry sandy winds lashing

Impermanent trails blaze bare feet

The son blaring summer hits ice cream sweet

Pier extending into the break

Every worry abandoned, cares to forsake

Blessing granted upon the shores

The tidal drift of a sirens lore

Return to life in waters deep

A haven given, a restful peace

These Are My People: Aunt Lizzie

The turning of the Wheel is honored in her space

the breathing of the seasons accounted at her grace

With eyes the color of summer sky she observes the holy

Appreciating each season as its revealed so slowly

Her hair is the color of bonfires, of cider mills or pumpkin pies

When she laughs, I mean really laughs, it could make you cry

She sees the world in music, notes upon a page,

Not a moment passes by that she’s not fully engaged.

She can make a piano dance a jig or an organ sing to God

But she believes, somewhere inside, that she is somehow flawed.

When she gives the gift of her, in whichever way she does,

There is never any doubt in mind, that you are truly loved.

 

Blue Gene

The thundering rain roiled violently in the warm November night

striking the man with sheets of his plight

He, on his knees on the side of the road,

had arms raised like and above his face

a thousand cries towards mercy

In supplication he wailed at the haunt of cars

A woman rushed to his side.

She didn’t touch him, but she united her voice with his prayers

He staggered to his feet as wings offered him passage

His breath of prayer accounted for, he was warmly embraced

He sobbed his shame into his cupped hands

while apologizing for his humanity

The chariot released him to the cross of spirits

easing his ailing heart.

He is loved.