I discover my woundedness. I sit and go into it.
The body and its language, landscape, soulscape, heart resounding. There harmony restores with time; let time be my friend. Let the light fill the gaps, weaving rhythms, mending landscapes within, as without. I walk, traverse, travel, wander, and I sing.
I sit and go into it. The darkness comes. The fire warms, the light returns. I travel and become. Old skins cannot support the lightening serpent, who is all wild earth, wild wisdom. Darkness only hides the light within it. The music of life continues.
The wise will not keep an image of age that is crippled. The roaming tribes know the ways. Old age becomes a blessing the more the years turn, returning, returning, always returning. The old become stronger each day, returning.
Why? Because of wisdom and love – the truth of life. What can we not smile for? What can we not hang onto? The heart will forever heal as time is a friend.
I sit and go into my woundedness. We all have our own gifted wounds. The thicker the mask, daunted more-so the soul. Strange lands resound in those who have not touched their being’s core.
I sit and grow in strength; mending naturally comes of it own. I sit and grow, strong strength strengthening, so that I might gift this world and not burden it.
Returning to the heart of love, again and again, I intend peace to all confusion of individuals and the collective. The clarity of peace in the face of waking existence. I offer peace, where there is deep anguish, may turmoil abate.
May unfulfilled longings cause no woe. May beings be enriched by simplicity. I strive for deeper peace where there is ruination and rupture. I offer peace in every pair of eyes I may look into. May there be peace throughout the world, wave upon rising wave perpetual. May the world sail the cosmos, ship of peace.
By Fox of the Oaks