New Moon, New Seeds

Love is everywhere. It protects the very heart of our beings. So it’s all right. Everything’s all right and always has been.~Jane Roberts

We’re trained from birth, our very words
that’s bad, that’s good, we cling, survival

seems impossible from our arrival
we gasp in poisoned air, injected

when we least expect it in a crazy
world where toxins are called medicine

we must endure misguided doctors’
incessant quackery studying separate

cells to proclaim a discovery, another
name to cloak the reaction

to the putrefaction of air and soil
and drinking water, full-scale slaughter

in the name of greed and promulgated
by the fear-porn screed.

We sit alone, we’re trained, perceive no choice
lower our voice, and even so the angry

sons shun their insane mothers
all dialogue blocked with dangerous others

the truth a sauce our diets now
prohibit, our only eyes for lies

as they exhibit the visual clues
of this unhealthy news and yet

if we can set aside our certainty
that harm is looming, dooming, carelessly

and simply quiet, presto, the tempo changes
the heart of the matter rearranges

the score and more, we realize
the love nature displays, miracles

every day in every moment we connect
to source, we laugh, we hug,

we understand, of course,
there may be malice withal

there is a greater force.
We plant the seeds, we open hearts, we call.

 

Everything was all right, always had been all right, it had only been their own anxieties and doubts that ever made it all seem wrong. They were all couched and safe, forever secure, forever jubilant at the heart of their own beings. There was never anything to be afraid of, if only they trusted the great sweet security that forever held the vitality of their beings, for they were all truly splendid, a part of a loving universe that cradled them forever in a safety and love literally beyond all comprehension.~Jane Roberts

Any opening

Here I am, to save the day!
Does my radiant smile sway?
Did I interrupt your terror
engine? You defend error
hands off when I get precise

and stand in question. Advice:
dig in the dirt to expose the roots
and the house of cards lets loose
shifting precarious
appearing nefarious.

My metaphors are bouncing
in your dissonance, trouncing
the diffidence. I aim
for any opening. No game.
Stress kills. Our coping

mechanisms with a daily onslaught
induce injury in ways that ought
not happen when we
embrace collectively.
Come on outside, let’s play.

The nightmare recedes in the day
light of our awakening.
The eggshells of our former lives
are breaking. All around
there is the new sound.

 

Inspired by: Bounce, Precise, Engine, Hands and Radiant.

And this article by Sol Luckman (don’t miss the eye-opening video by Dr. Andrew Kaufman.)