Love is always present, in the world, in nature, in us. What changes is our realisation of it.
Sending you a hearty smile from nature, dear melody.
love without end, Sandavala
Sunday…to one and all: Peace within & peace to share…
MEDICINE DREAM
I have a dream:
at the center of the dream
is circling ocean
in the center of the ocean
is turtle island
at the center of the island
is vision mountain
in the center of the mountain
is healing crystal
at the center of the crystal
is sacred light
in the center of the light
i sit dreaming
I have a dream:
i dream i am a tree
my roots spread out
beside a place of water
in sunlight
my branches turn to fire
my leaves are prayers of smoke
my heart beats like a drum
inside a stone of power
I have a dream:
my dream is at the center
of great silence
here at the center
i sit dreaming
from HEALING, A Book of Poetry by David Sparenberg
Compassion is the root and common thread. Compassion abides in the soul, as soul’s most natural offspring. It works through the heart and enters the world without doctrine or dogma. Compassion suffers for otherness, from that which one did not do. And compassion rejoices with the joy of that which is shared by all.
The differences of religions arise when compassion is broken apart, like a mirror dashed in a fit of anger. But the way of compassion is wholeness. And the cause of compassion is unity.
We need not abandon the differences, for they smell of human journeys and the gardens of many imaginations. But we must always remember compassion and the invitation to the banquet of reunion. For the “religious” purpose of compassion is to gather the shards of darkened glass and render them harmless.
Some might call this a miracle, other enlightenment. I am a humble person and I call it only Eden, the place of the Tree of Life.
The expression
of the beautiful genius
opens like a wordless
rose
and clothes us
in the fumes
of paradise.
Somehow
when we are
listening to the wings
of crows and the
tender melodies
of elfin butterflies
we feel embraced
by the breath
of angels.
Beating
so softly, so
delicate-sweet that
velvet on a virgin’s
skin
might touch us
with an offering.
Though
we are there, out
in that other place
the familiar cup
of a summer’s rose
rises
from this ground
to kiss us
with the miracle
of its pouring passions.
And
we are downed
supine
into the common
haunting symbolum
of earth’s
dense mystery.
Though
not a single
word has swollen
to the lips
like a cherry
freshly swollen,
but the heavy
buzzing
of a working bee
lost
in the ecstasies
of pollen.
And
we are spellbound
and complete.
Like fruit.
Like garden.
When the one who is awaited comes
and you find your face
within his face
and your heartbeat
living inside his heartbeat
as entwined as lover’s breath;
when the angel that he brings
bears your name as
clearly inscribed as his own
and the animal at his side
walks peacefully
in the shadow of your footsteps;
then will the Earth Revolution begin
like a child
awakening at the onset of morning
(a Dawn Child)
and green will be as red as gold.
And that which starts
prayerful in a whispered word
swift as lightning
or as wildfire consumes
not but bitterness
and the lusts of exploitation and war.
And it shall end in this:
The never ending fertility
of the dream of God
and the promise filling the fields
of holy prophesy. For we
in the companionship
of the awaited—of one coming on—
shall eat at the banquet of our preparations.
And the one will be invited
to sit here
and be among us.
That day shall be called
Abundance. And that night
Deliverance from the Apocalypse
of manmade evils. And the world
with the one at the center of
the everywhere from
now until always will dance.
Dance as people dance
around a tree of fire
that does not burn but
shines with joy. With life.
With redefining
Liberty.
David Sparenberg
6 August 2008
ON HEARING AGAIN BEETHOVEN’S
ODE TO JOY
In the terrible
conflagration of war
it is not only armies
that are consumed
but the obo
and the violin die
die tragically as well.
In the monstrous
rampages of hatred
it is not only the victims
of insidious propaganda who
are the targets of political rage
but the flowers of perception
are withered too.
Like a winter storm
the land that longs
for love of spring
wastes with wounds
and ugly memories.
Somewhere in the darkness
of petrifying screams
there is the smell of
carrion earth
an outcry of blood.
Music too
like a sweetness in the soul of
struggling even
as a song bird
nesting
in the heart of the angel
of human discovery perishes.
Who then pleads
for the others who
are scattered everywhere
like dust in the wind?
iPeace.us
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I have sent you a message but it will not send, hopefully it will go in a little while, fingers crossed x
Visit my new page of my blog Thank youhttp://www.ipeace.me/profiles/blogs/beautifulnaturefrancis-of
Sending you a hearty smile from nature, dear melody.
love without end, Sandavala
Hope you'll check out the photographs I took and altered last night (in a new photo album) of the beautiful Full Moon. Love Is All ~ Warren
hope you and yours are well xMEDICINE DREAM
I have a dream:
at the center of the dream
is circling ocean
in the center of the ocean
is turtle island
at the center of the island
is vision mountain
in the center of the mountain
is healing crystal
at the center of the crystal
is sacred light
in the center of the light
i sit dreaming
I have a dream:
i dream i am a tree
my roots spread out
beside a place of water
in sunlight
my branches turn to fire
my leaves are prayers of smoke
my heart beats like a drum
inside a stone of power
I have a dream:
my dream is at the center
of great silence
here at the center
i sit dreaming
from HEALING, A Book of Poetry by David Sparenberg
Compassion is the root and common thread. Compassion abides in the soul, as soul’s most natural offspring. It works through the heart and enters the world without doctrine or dogma. Compassion suffers for otherness, from that which one did not do. And compassion rejoices with the joy of that which is shared by all.
The differences of religions arise when compassion is broken apart, like a mirror dashed in a fit of anger. But the way of compassion is wholeness. And the cause of compassion is unity.
We need not abandon the differences, for they smell of human journeys and the gardens of many imaginations. But we must always remember compassion and the invitation to the banquet of reunion. For the “religious” purpose of compassion is to gather the shards of darkened glass and render them harmless.
Some might call this a miracle, other enlightenment. I am a humble person and I call it only Eden, the place of the Tree of Life.
David Sparenberg
22 July 2009
The expression
of the beautiful genius
opens like a wordless
rose
and clothes us
in the fumes
of paradise.
Somehow
when we are
listening to the wings
of crows and the
tender melodies
of elfin butterflies
we feel embraced
by the breath
of angels.
Beating
so softly, so
delicate-sweet that
velvet on a virgin’s
skin
might touch us
with an offering.
Though
we are there, out
in that other place
the familiar cup
of a summer’s rose
rises
from this ground
to kiss us
with the miracle
of its pouring passions.
And
we are downed
supine
into the common
haunting symbolum
of earth’s
dense mystery.
Though
not a single
word has swollen
to the lips
like a cherry
freshly swollen,
but the heavy
buzzing
of a working bee
lost
in the ecstasies
of pollen.
And
we are spellbound
and complete.
Like fruit.
Like garden.
David Sparenberg
Let the foaming water bathe you
from the sea the moon smiles over
and where the sun sets.
Let the rain find you on a little hill.
Dreaming beneath the autumn tree,
let dew drop into your imagination
and splash candles of rainbows.
Grow the wings of raven: where mystery
and silence transform space and time,
fly to the garden-vision
in the heart of the world.
Do not forget the seasons of seeding;
the moments of harvest,
when flowers of manna
become fruit from your soul.
Do not forget:
here is the Earth and you,
earthling, are here in the shadow-play
of dreams and storms.
There is a spirit hovering and she nests
wherever centering occurs. Out of whose
hands, beloved,
does the dove of now ascent,
if not from yours?
David Sparenberg
15 December 2008
When the one who is awaited comes
and you find your face
within his face
and your heartbeat
living inside his heartbeat
as entwined as lover’s breath;
when the angel that he brings
bears your name as
clearly inscribed as his own
and the animal at his side
walks peacefully
in the shadow of your footsteps;
then will the Earth Revolution begin
like a child
awakening at the onset of morning
(a Dawn Child)
and green will be as red as gold.
And that which starts
prayerful in a whispered word
swift as lightning
or as wildfire consumes
not but bitterness
and the lusts of exploitation and war.
And it shall end in this:
The never ending fertility
of the dream of God
and the promise filling the fields
of holy prophesy. For we
in the companionship
of the awaited—of one coming on—
shall eat at the banquet of our preparations.
And the one will be invited
to sit here
and be among us.
That day shall be called
Abundance. And that night
Deliverance from the Apocalypse
of manmade evils. And the world
with the one at the center of
the everywhere from
now until always will dance.
Dance as people dance
around a tree of fire
that does not burn but
shines with joy. With life.
With redefining
Liberty.
David Sparenberg
6 August 2008
ON HEARING AGAIN BEETHOVEN’S
ODE TO JOY
In the terrible
conflagration of war
it is not only armies
that are consumed
but the obo
and the violin die
die tragically as well.
In the monstrous
rampages of hatred
it is not only the victims
of insidious propaganda who
are the targets of political rage
but the flowers of perception
are withered too.
Like a winter storm
the land that longs
for love of spring
wastes with wounds
and ugly memories.
Somewhere in the darkness
of petrifying screams
there is the smell of
carrion earth
an outcry of blood.
Music too
like a sweetness in the soul of
struggling even
as a song bird
nesting
in the heart of the angel
of human discovery perishes.
Who then pleads
for the others who
are scattered everywhere
like dust in the wind?
David Sparenberg
25-26 July 2008
and some big Kitty Kat Hugs for You
and some Angelic Hugs for You
but You asked for a Hug from Me. All I have is a Lot of Love for YouWelcome to
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