Heart Song of Creation
I can feel the dying
and the surrendering to my last breath
in the calvary of walking
through the heaviness of the existence
of dragging the illusions
to which so many cling
the way the last leaves of autumn
resist letting go
to yield to winter winds
or watching the way the seasons turn
the pages of destiny
and time bound expectation
I close my eyes and bow my head
in awe
with an aching awareness
of the final hours
of this dying vigil of all that
has been so filled
with life and color and beauty
that shook to me to the core of my being
surprised that any moment
could ever dim or steal the splendor of life
in the peak and depth of feeling
that I have been so blessed
to know
My human voice whispers gratitude
for the thrill of loving
in this dying vigil of my final hour
remembering beauty
and the magnificence of creative power
beyond my imagining
how thankful to have known it
to be touched by the spiritual reach
of the hands
of the creator of a kingdom
of divine vision
here on this revolving earth
A mighty wind sweeps through
this sweet farewell
lightning splinters the sky and shakes
the ground
beneath my feet
as great arms with gentle strength
lift me from the cross of death
we only thought was real
carrying me
to a placelessness where life exists
as a lightness of being
as intimacy
leaps into a new life
where sweetness is the dew
of every dawn
How cheap the deception that denies
the possibilities
and tries to take control
of who wins heaven
and who is denied entrance
to forever
a deep sadness reigns
over the closed hearts that snuff
the hope that breathes
only the life-giving breath
of the beauty of love
and forgiveness
How thrilling the dancing king
who lives beyond time
and exudes the reality of a shimmering radiance
and beauty beyond the numbering
of our years
the feminine softness of breasts
that offer milk and honey
and whispering secrets
of the womb of vintage wine
the teeming life in the sea of tranquility
scattering pearls of heaven
right here on earth
Spirit senses the freedom of flight
without wings
and the sheltering
membrane of transparency
of communion
where conception happens
and life bursts forth
as a song of glorious freedom
and love
beyond our dreams
Hide the inspiration in metaphors
to keep them safe
shining from the portals
where the single eye
of God
filled with light
gazes upon innocence
and purity
longing to give birth
to a song
and a rhythm
that lives forever
Now is the hour of renaissance
and the visions
that sprout
from the gardens of dreaming
and lovers leave
their imprint
in the wildflowers
that bloom at midnight
and disappear
at dawn
The troubadours and poets
the painters
and wandering minstrels
the joyful beggars
and buddhas beneath the trees
the gracious flowering
of desire
that kindles the fire
in our hearts
revives and renews the spark
that fosters life
and melts the winter
into spring
This is the energy
and spirit
of love
blazing in the rays
of golden sun
that beam the light
of vision
around the earth
Naomi Stone
