Tuesday, June 20, 2017

The Mystic








The blood of channels of ages
of ancient mad philosophers
waking at dawn,
resting bare feet
upon the face of Mother Earth,
staring in wondrous awe
to a skyline that speaks
of truth and wisdom.

Whispers of the velvet night,
and the newborn dawn,
sing in hushed angelic choirs,
comforting the spirit,
guiding the traveler,
like lanterns held high
in the searing desert sand,
telling the mind, body and soul,
to keep
moving
onward.

The well is not far,
dear friend,
and it is deep. 

The moss covered stones
have secrets
for you.

Step lightly,
in reverence,
drink of only
what is required
to sustain your spirit,
for there are others
following your tracks,
even if hidden
by the wailing wind.

They follow your scent,
like fireside smoke
spiraling,
above this dying world.

Rejoice,
for you are blessed
with the knowing
that existence is eternal,

and that this life 

is but
a dream. 



words & photography © Susan Marie 



Tuesday, June 13, 2017

starshower






in the spaces
between us,
the cracks
and crevices
of time -

the evolution
of the Earth,
spinning
on its Axis,

the tear
the smile,

the cirrus wonders,
and celestial star-showers,

the words spoken
in haste,
and ones never
uttered,

the listless breaths
caught in passion,
and released
through lips
full,

in the shine
of heaven,
and the tarnish of hell,

in between,
the light and dark
shadows of our souls,

are merely
- cracks -
like lines on palms,
- direction -

- the middle of the road -

connecting me
to you,
and us,

to
everything
 
that
is.


words & photo © Susan Marie