None of this writing in the middle of the night malarkey - I have a blissful free few hours in the house (and of course overrun with things I'd like to do with it!) Now that we have changed our routine again to include me Not working, we're all in a bit of a muddle getting all the individual needs met again. All in a tumble after Sunburst's birthday week and now coming back down to ground. Not sure if I've seen the back of the wheat yet (after my last post), but not focusing on it too much.
We've had the heating on once or twice, days are getting shorter.
There were some fab readings at our chapel service yesterday:
I'm going to type out my favourite:
The heart is the seedpod of the soul.
The heart is the seedpod of the soul.
When the divine rain falls on her,
She breaks open and grows towards the light,
Nourished by the good dark earth,
Fed by the compost of experience,
And shaped into uniqueness
by the winds of suffering.
Warmed by the sun, the radiance
at the heart of all life, her tendrils
reach out for other plants, to know
the joy of true companionship:
The love of one being for another.
Fed by the hidden waters of the earth,
She explands and contracts, changing and growing.
In spring she puts on leaves
and shivers with gladness
at the touch of the Beloved.
In summer she blossoms
and gives forth ravishing scent in the bliss of union.
Then the ripening of fruit
and the time of falling leaves
as the return to the Source draws near.
Then the chill of age and wisdom
and the plant stands naked
before the ultimate.
Now she scatters her treasures to the winds
and the seeds of love area carried onwards
to lodge by chance in some plot of earth,
Barren or fertile, there to nourish some other growing plant.
Yvonne Ayburrow
Thats all for now
x x x
That's a beautiful poem - oh sorry we missed sunburst's birthday, I didn't know it was his day!
ReplyDelete