The Meaning of Life . . .

Love is . . .

We are in a play . . .
We chose our own roles
Many millennium times millennium ago . . .
We are in a play . . .
observed by all the entities of the Universe
times Universes . . . and beyond
Deep into the darkest recesses and
High into the brightest star clouds
live the other beings, our audience,
We once knew them but
through the graces of time
on this royal blue planet. . .
have forgotten them . . .

and
though we were warned
that we would forget
our star-like existence . . .
we were eager to become the actors
and endure the pain,
the heartbreak,
the joy . . .
we chose to take on the costume
and take on our roles . ..

so we wander on this stage,
this world,
costumed in fragile flesh . . .
and we fulfill our existence here
every one of us . . .
shadowed in mysteries . . .
we feel lost as humans
yet we have it the way it is to be . . .
we call it Fate:

The choice -
to be a baby dying in an African village
one of thousands . . .to give opportunity
to touch the hearts
of the witnesses .. . so they may show kindness
in love .. .
The choice -
To be part  of a murdering army
so that others may show courage,
fortitude, and love in combat
The choice -
To be a young mother of two little children, suffering with a growing cancer,
that fills her body. . .so that her friends can show her love.
The choice -
To be a quiet living soul,
tending and creating a beautiful garden,
in love, so as to touch the heart and delight of a photographer. . .

To be, in every step of the way  . . . a star
to touch, to guide, to learn . . . to be love,
to love,
for love is truth
when it is given through the hiding shadows
when only the tales of time
will reveal all
as perfection. . .

The whole purpose of our lives -
has meaning . . .
to demonstrate the ways of love -
to kill the darkness and bring in the light.

That is our play . ..  and earth is our stage
and we are the actors . . .
presenting to the Universe. . .
a show about love.


##
 

Memories

a shadow play passes through my mind. . .

yesterday, the trees blowing in the wind, and
a rain storm over sidewalks shiny and gray, where
an old black cat, matted fur and dragging tail,
comes hopefully to greet me,
as I skirt a large murky puddle. . .
like a lake it floods and spreads . . .
detritus filming its edges,
old leaves and bits of memories
clinging to the surface. . .
a bottomless song as the raindrops
pound on the water
and, too, on my bowed head,
as I think of Autumns long ago . .
the colors of the leaves are submerged
by the songs of yesterday
and sullen dreams .. ..  soon 
forgotten. . .
dreams that return again,
beginning as flares of brilliant colors. . .

yesterday, the colors of Autumn cling to the unforgiving trees
while the wind blows, the leaves dance and sing
as they clap against each other. . .
a song as old as the world,
as timeless as the universe. . .
a sameness, and yet,
a lullaby of life. . .
a melody of the stars
as they flare and die
in the black coldness of eternal space. . .
they cling to the night sky
moody and relentless in their glittering splendor. . .
each star an entity,
unique,
each one a rebirth from the heart of the universe. . .

yesterday, a song came to haunt me
and repeating itself today. . .
as I wander through the cycles of my life
I hear a song that comforts me,
and reminds me that I am unique
like a fragment of a crystal. . .
the same as all the rest,
yet a unique thumbprint on the page of life. . .
smudged just a little
yet clear as the crystal song
reverberating through space and time,
a song of love, and yearning to be free,
and to be reborn again . . . and again . . .


##                                                                                                                                                                     
                                                                                                                                                                                                                       

 

 

A Moment in Glory

 

And what is fall to me . . .
a harvest of bitter and dusty grasses
in the lesser sunlight,
a kaleidoscope of vivid colors
reflecting
a last good-bye - from a spectrum
of summer's warmth,
a strength in old life. . .
and a lifting up of arms
to rejoice in shifting winds . ..
before the long night
of winter . . .
and the silence of a long rest.

It isn't the end . . .
it is a beginning .. ..
a circle of life's goals . .
a glowing moment
in the darkness of our understandings
and we see an eternity
in the splash of a fresh new moment.

##

 

Just a tiny space . . . within a short block .. .. colors so blinding and perfect ... rich and only from Mother Nature!

And I can't stop looking and gasping in awe!

Life is too short not to walk through with senses wide open . .. and defenses down . ..  just a little:

Magic happens in just a split moment . . . and then never returns . .. so the capturing of memories is for that second only . ..  and the value is endless .. . for our road can be through that beauty . .. and that magic, giving joy.

The Red Leaf

The red leaf,
                                            released from her tree,
was cast adrift                  
in the still
                         and the calm
of the solemn air . . .
a sharp coolness touched the                                      
breath
                                               of a small dusty sparrow
as she paused in her search                      
                    for that hidden meal
lurking beneath the bark         
                                             of the old tree. . .
                                                                   and as the leaf
fluttered and rocked on the                         
                                          breath of ancient gods,

the hunter's eyes of the little bird caught    
                                               the shadow and flash
of when life collides with death . . .                                         
the ultimate hunter. . .
                                         in that moment
as she was snatched up,                                        
a fraction of a second's inattention,
and the hawk's grasp
was loosed, while
                                               a few brown feathers joined the scarlet leaf

floating through the passive atmosphere,

the little sparrow was gone                                         
to rejoice in the shadows of the
                                                    nearest shrub,
while the hawk flew away hungry. . .                                 
                                                          and the sun hid his amber face
behind a lonely cloud
                                                             drifting on the crisp blue sky  . . .

##

Summer's end The Video

                                                           
    


http://orangeupurple.blogspot.com/2010/09/autumns-dream.html

http://www.jamendo.com/en/artist/Van_Syla
http://vansyla.blogspot.com/