Silent Sunday…

seasons of mists

There’s a quiet mist over everything,
clinging to trees
it softly brings…
calm to the meadows 
with silken dew,
waiting patiently
for light to peek through…

Gently joining the earth
to the skies,
easing the glow
of a bright sunrise…
and all of nature
hugs in clouds,
while not a sound is being said aloud… In whispered vapors
it silently flows,
blurring the edges
with opaque tones…


A bright star…

“We come spinning out of nothingness, scattering stars like dust.”
― Rumi

stars 4

Did you remember who you were before the wars?
when sweet waters
washed up on every shore…
when you deciphered the patterns in the skies,
before the estrangement,
before the lies…

When love was as plain as day
before harsh words caused dismay…

unacquainted with darkness or form,
your essence shone like a meteor swarm…

a bright star
entering physical plains,
crashing to earth
you bravely
incarnated from cosmic realms,
sent to
expand love
where humans dwell…

Have you forgotten your reason for being?
when love was all you ever believed…

Before the great suffering,
before strife…
when every soul was

image courtesy…PixaBay