Miracle Of Day Dreaming A Spiritual Awakening Poem

posted in: Spiritual Poetry | 0

There is a piece of serenity in this demeanor, this state of mind, your presence brings peace covered in a clean rebellion. No tangible grounds for suspicion, arousing curiosity, browsing through life as if it were a library. A paradise where only the soul can escape to, where the stars died and dreams were born.

Day dreaming whales
Where the essence of being is the essence of everything, time is nothing and all is possible. A reminder that life is a miracle, this plane is a momentary experience, a fleeting opportunity. Visions of emotions stamped into the senses, links , and moments, suspended, stored in a center.

Where only one may enter but all are connected, no fear and nothing to contend with. This is why we sleep to remember our roots, wake up anew and help create more of this art. Life in its abstract poses, It’s multiple layers, the changing phases, intelligent novelties, times frozen. Countless dimensions, realities with parallel universes, beings at every stage, from every form.

All placed in this place we call space, materialized by a force unseen, unheard, untouched, one of love. We came from this entity and there we shall return, but as our candles of life burn, we must find a way to learn. A way to teach for there are dark, problematic and chaotic energies gently fused with the warmth of the light.

Hidden in disguise, camouflaged in a silky contour of beautiful lies, our material selves fall for it every time. Reality is an absurd word used to downplay our mental curbs, the disturbed cornered during play. The facade sweeps the rest away, leaving echoes and stains, the decay making way for flowers to rest.. This is where your peace is, where your chaos waits, where souls come out to dance and fight, where they can take flight.

Create living things and diminish unnecessary queries, where the wind is painted, the sound is fluid and sight is flared. It is in this place where I find you, where I get lost, where I am found, where confusion dissipates and clarity is near. Never there, never here, sights unseen, voices of the ages and figures sought out in artificial pages.. Set is the stage.. – Wendee Valencia


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