Poetry: Thread So Fine

posted in: Spiritual Poetry | 0

Spiritual poem

The golden thread of reality, and life, the ether itself, the fragile satin net, gently swaying. Always moving in synch with the wind, intimately entwined and persuaded by the tide. Aged and evolving with the stars, on par with the oldest one, outnumbered by none. Shadowed by its own veil, disillusioned.

Lured to and fro with the phases alongside the changes in the strength of the moon. Like a temperamental yo-yo, permanently magnetized, wearing thin, frayed strings, millions of years gone, finally worn in, like old sneakers, durable, lose double laced snake tongues, slithering and slippery suddenly break free.

New bonds created by old ties, taking hold, constellations cursed at birth to remain stone cold, set in stone, left alone, shining bright but never smiling right. Unearthed slaves forever chained and so the web continues to hang on by a fine thread.  Grasping  tight, lightly shedding and growing, shaking off it’s glow in dusty waves of flakes,  faintly  illuminated, slightly caught within the sun’s woven beams of light.

The interconnected web spirals, directionless, weightless, formless, screaming in a silence unheard and looking with a vision unseen, gently hanging, draping  in intricately detailed designs, constructing signs between systems therein that sustain every form, shadowed within it’s heavy  inauspicious space.

Constantly changing, rotating, spinning, turning,  tilting, switching poles, over and again repeated in  time, slowly ripping  holes as it passes as a wave does in the vast ocean, coasting through a limitless motion, perpetual in essence, in real life never-ending.

Unfathomable possibilities and directions within the parts  of the process and theories, tied dimensions so closely nit they bond and merge, like minds fuse, taking in all angles, merging chemicals, resetting  the elemental make up and creating varied environments, sub-realities to be contained in the fading moments captured by the minds eye, aware or not, it’s there,  it works and if nurtured holds the most intuitively formed key spilling over with information held throughout the ages and protected for millenniums.

Traveling as memories attached in an abstract fashion, structure lost forces of nature adding to the collection, remaining obscurely pure only skewed by it’s vessels or squire capacity to inflate the ego, watered down, it’s easily bruised, sparks diffuse,with metal bare, weather worn, rust sets in, stripping it, diminishing it from the inside out, flaking away, dry and exposed.

Numb to the chill, unmoved by the heat, heart makes the difference before it’s  back at sea. Only to be contaminated by perspectives on lived experiences and shared experiences. Conceptions tainted, second-guessed, over looked, manipulated or under rated.

Potentials misunderstood, chances emptied,  filled with fear, leaving imprints marks of regret lingering, swimming in the deep, amongst  the risks never taken, dreams unfulfilled, opportunities missed, secrets forgotten and feelings kept in. Ghosts leftover,  never  forgotten in end goal completion, deterring to awaken in an alternate dimension, ascending, re birthing on a foreign plate, a different plateau.

Beginnings with  blurred vision, no sense of events embedded for personal growth . Future reference, momentary recordings stored, while the silk sheet draped over our alienated souls, crying like children lost. A  balancing act of forces intangible, quietly grinding its eternal gears by the external motor of notions, thoughts and serious implementations on experimentation’s producing complex  paradigms leading into deeper  intricate patterns of precision and redesigning the minds outlook, charging neurons never used, racing a current down electrical paths that never carried spark, but speed is ascending.

Its getting faster causing nausea within the spirits of all beings, footing has become unstable, it’s no longer a fable it’s time to become flexible, adaptable to  take part more, listen to the universal laws of nature and bow down to no man.. – Wendee Valencia


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