Rhyme & Reason (was Sacred Lights)

> -----Original Message-----
> From: Timitisi_at_Bk62vtDr45MPckqG2Sq4o6-72OED7cJr20zPTqQSHyX4C3fA2ilsTV0do5iErgV-AsN.yahoo.invalid [mailto:Timitisi_at_Bk62vtDr45MPckqG2Sq4o6-72OED7cJr20zPTqQSHyX4C3fA2ilsTV0do5iErgV-AsN.yahoo.invalid]
> Sent: 25 May 2003 22:13
> To: emotrance2_at_yahoogroups.com
> Subject: Re: [ET2] Sacred Lights
>
>
> Sacred light doesn't rhyme or scan!

AHAHA!!

I was *waiting* crouched and coiled, nostrils flaring and tail
twitching in tight anticipation and joy for the next guy to come
along and say "but it doesn't rhyme ..."

You're IT!

AND - I AM READY!

With a rhyming poem, specially crafted in anticipation of this
very occasion.

Now, and as a bye the bye, these "things" are called hypnodreams
and are not classed as poems. Mohamed called them this as a
shorthand label to refer to these little metaphorical packaging
friends of energetic interaction. They are all much more closely
related to a guided meditation or a hypnotic induction although
that is specifically not what they are, they are far more subtle
than that.

But this is, indeed, bye the bye.

Here's a rhyming poem especially for you Tim ;-> and to scan it,
you need to print it out first!

SF

Serenity's Sky

In the dawn of the silence,
in the morning's sweet time,
on the last day of mourning,
on the last day of all,
the hesistant sunshine
without rhythm or rhyme
on the wasted repentants
is waiting to fall.

The priestess of nightmares
who cannot be stilled,
precluded no respite,
she betrayed them once more.
She shivered in mourning
and time is unwilled
as she raises her lightning
to breach to the core.

There cannot be singing
when all is undone
when the night has forsaken
its own early song.
Yet others are waiting,
the father and son,
who were always mistaken,
who waited too long

For a hand or a gesture
to reach out, hold sway
to have moments of glory
and rise high above
whilst the darkness is hungry
and those who still stay
are dememted, insane
for the lack of love.

And the time thus stood still
and the oceans lay white.
The silence rained down
as the crosses they bear;
writhing corpses, survivors
scratching blind without sight
without hope, without faith
in redemption so fair

Until from below them
a tremour was known
rising higher and wider
and tearing asunder
the tight towers and mountains
from which angels had flown,
their skeletons crumbling
amidst lightning and thunder.

And their grim reaper world
full of hate and dismay
this day when it came
was destroyed to the core.
Fire raining and starfall
washed them clean and away
and rescinded their memories
as had happened before.

The garden of Eden
for which they had yearned
took ten thousand turns
to raise them up high,
and as we were watching,
we listened and learned
in sorrow and wonder
from serenity's sky.

c Silvia Hartmann May 2003

           
Received on Sun May 25 2003 - 17:21:21 BST