"The angels envy us our solidity. Death, they think, would be a price worth paying for the power and brilliance of our senses. If an angel were to see with our eyes, or hear with our ears, he would be dazzled and stunned by the force with which we perceive the physical world. With gifts like this, he would think, why do these creatures not spend their lives in exploration of the physical universe that they are so well equipped to understand? Why are they not consumed with intellectual bliss? This is a mystery to angels.


The angel who wrestled with Jacob in the darkness at Peniel is named Metatron.(no matter?) However, some dispute this.

Angels have no passions or affections, except one, which is curiosity, or intellectual passion. This is for them the highest of all things. However, others maintain that although they have few feelings for fellow angels, they are capable of love for creatures of other kinds. Some say that the Watchers fell in love with the daughters of men and had offspring by them. That was so long ago, and so many generations have mingled since, that we can all claim to be the descendants of angels."

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the vision of
rainbow bridge
a satin ribbon under foot
its sway the play of gravity
extension ‘s reach
secure in bringing worlds
together for the feast
each guest
in turn
approaches open gates
with truffles in each hand
such humble gifts to set
before the hosts
of angels ,saints

and guests already sitting at their place of eons
waiting for the honored birthday child
to grace them with the new

in silent prayer upon His chair
a shadow forms the child
who whispers
dressed in simple cloth
in peasants garb
from fields
a tiny figure
both hands on the chalice
lifts it high for all to toast the coming times
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earth quakes
mountains spew n fall
tsunami washes thunder
from the face of being
frist shock of lightning
lifts the flocks of millions
raised to heaven
darkening the son
with patterned spirals to the sky
hosts of things to come
pi patterns
unthinkable
unthought

counted and scorned
flesh timed and torn
pages of change
9 chapters born
novels at best
absence of rest

arms to the side as angel wings
head bent to tears
extending 4
to subtle soft strains of adagio
violin vantage
sustanuto
piano
pianissimo
pianississimo
gentle lifting
there upon the fragrant air
from fire infernal thermal to the flight of firebirds
a mythic pose
from ashes rose
and fell
olympic diver graceful to the leap of faith
into the nothing

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reading well and circling the planets now
as if in orbit to the archetypes you gather
for the knots
instinctive as if drawing up the feathers for a future flight
…a calling to the poles in seasons yet to be…
lay lines drawn
hearts in thrall
elementals
4 in all
words: the dance of mortals
gestures : but the dance of gods
silence :as the setting son
awakens
those things yet to see or be
“words…no words”?
perhaps new sacred texts n gestures for the world to be
what former flow for
our fine exchange
exchanged
impulse to silence
all full
all empty
a place to be
no me
no thee
though love rests well in the nest of aeons
glowing as if mirrored by the peacock’s tail
…looking close
examining with curiosity of angels
as it forms a silent home within
…a silence felt within
…a silence felt within
…a………………….
hmmm
contentment of some well fed chirpling?
or
the silence from a last faint breath?
not sure
…….creation’s Will alone
accompanied by a faint chuckle of appreciation
from the All
for our participation


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another vision


....I saw the triangle of three ways to proceed...one is the pure way..one is the assisted way and the third is on a train
(Most are on the train)
....the first way has to be born into...the second way is karmic and the third way is with the masses.
All three had purpose in form and all three were timed for structure....
foundation ...form ...and capstone.
All degrees were part of the whole and the absurdity was that the masses ...the ones on the train .....the masses were the shining ones.
then the triangle reversed upside down and the star was born.....well not exactly a star...but a spark.....and it became active
then I remembered that kether is motion...god is a verb...fist action

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....the words,the lofty thoughts,the dreams, the truth revealed is not the final quest,but finding guest in such a simple being sitting crossed legged on a sofa there adorned in last years jeans and spotted tee.
I see some roots that should or should not see the light of day or are they stars of silver....well...they shine...
She lifts the coffee, sips as if a chalice filled with blood and turns to lift the sacred toast adorned with royal honey from the Jersey bee.
Sweet the touch upon the tongue....hmmm a thought , a memory, of recent unfulfilled desire .......a phantom ......probably created in her mind.
A thought:
Why is it that these silly men want goddesses descending on a cloud like pictures seen on castle walls....garments flowing, glimmering in shades of summer skies, and stars adorning hair of gold or sun, and on and on.....
Perhaps that's why she visits children more.
They open to the magic of the everydays and break to gallop and become in truth the unicorn returning to the sacred grove in play....
I say....
I too returned to play and all eyes turned away.
Were I to stand adorned in garments now...they would be shades of scarlet from a passion play...steadfast, relentless as the Queen of all that suffer empty eyes.
With gifts held high for all the eyes to see and for one moment there were eyes that smiled....but with a gestured wave dismissed it as illusion.....all foundations strength was there to heal the rift. Once more my eyes ascend to ask the question of the realm that I have yet to see,"How can it bee?"And tell me,Would they follow if one broke into a gallop swift to play in sacred groves?"
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raycognizing
something wo(l)ven in the blood
arc angles of the heart
ultramate grail n
re membering ank chant rights
stir/ring dreams
deep called/run
deep deep deep
w/ a fine(d) green ladle
stir ring
sweet sweet sweet
serving he(i)ros