Finally got my Festive Mailer done and out! Feel free to have chomp through if you dont receive it... and here is a poem from it that I thought I would share with you all here. It was penned quite some years ago, but it has been gathering dust, so thought Id air it this midwinter, enjoy! I wish a (late) Merry Solstice, Happy Christmas and a joyous Midwinter to all of you: may we all be empowered, enabled and effective in the year to come : The Omen The Cry of the Eagle sounds o’er the Land Howl of the Dragon Wolf waking His Hands The Jackal is stirring and snarling and more Waiting to show the way out of The Bore The Day is Returning, The Time is at Hand The wish we’ve all wished for is ready to land The Sword of His Power and the Spear of His Fate Are ready to strike and bring food to His Plate The Cry has now sounded, the lines are now drawn The Trumpet Blast beckons the Son to be Born The Fight is now Coming, the Time is at Hand The Battle is ready to rage through the land The Pack is a-howling and baring their teeth Dusting their Links to free man from The Beast: Look to the foe, he’s embedded and ready Risen to the top through mans unwitting eddy The Message is Coming, don’t stand in its way Look for the battlefield signs in your day The Trumpet has Sounded, there’s no ‘where’ to go So get your Self ready, take part in The Show Man has meandered for too long, it’s true So stop what you’re doing and think this one through: Who are the liars, the cheats and the frauds? The one’s who beguile with their shiny false gods Mans Soul Cry has sounded: HE takes it no more So shake off your slumber and Open The Door Let your Light guide you, it’s sure and its true It will soon make sure there’s no rich or poor Awake to the Truth, the Hope and the Light You will soon See, there’s no need for fright Ending the sorrow, the pain and the shame Are now within reach if we release our Blame Compassion and Peace, Love and true Joy Lie just round the corner, no need to by coy Mans wrongful prison is ready to crumble No room to stutter, or futter, or fumble For we are all rich in the heart of our hearts yet we all suckle on their poison darts: The lies that confound you are ready to go Just look around you: there’s no ‘where’ to go us1.campaign-archive2/?u=40fecdc20dd9e1316fea94239&id=c0e7e4767a
Posted on: Thu, 25 Dec 2014 19:23:41 +0000
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