Better late than never...below is my gift for Be and Drew and for all Enchanted Folk  that reside here.....

HEAR MY SILENT PRAYER...

Observe with your eyes

Listen with your ears

But seek to understand through your hearts

The mysteries that can only be felt

Through a sacred place of refuge

Found within the heart-space

Where your soul dances

To a never-ending beat of Compassion and Love.

Hear my silent prayer

As I ask for this circle of light

To embrace this meeting place

Where a gathering of different cultures and nations

Will meet with respect for one another

Whereby they will learn to listen to one another...

Without prejudice

Try and understand one another...

Without judgement.

Hear my silent prayer

For all those that are lead here

In order that this circle of light

May grow in beauty

A dawn of a new age

Time for new beginnings

Where we learn to talk from the heart...

And not from a place of ego.

Hear my silent prayer

That this multi-faceted circle of friends

Both seen and unseen

Reach out to one another with care 

Allowing the dove of peace

To touch us with her soft white feathers

Thus turning our circle slowly and gently

That we may dance as one

To the never resting heartbeat of compassion and love.

 Namaste

 © Ali Clarke

Forever to be a memory of a moment in time,

For once the moment has passed,

It can never be captured again,

As time moves forward

Leaving the moment behind,

Except for the briefest glimpse of its totality

Held within the colours of a photograph.

But has the photo captured the beginning or the end?

Does it speak the truth or hold a lie?

A poem in picture form,

For it has many layers

That can touch each individual

In many different ways,

Depending on their perspective of a truth.

Laying bare the ugliness of life

To the beauty and richness of life.

But where does beauty lie?

In a wizened, wrinkled face of the crone

Whose eyes hold the nurturing wisdom of life?

Or in a flawless face

That hides a heart as cold as ice?

Is it perfection that holds beauty,

As in the Cornflower blue that grows in spring meadows?

A photo speaks of power!

But does power lie...

In man made skyscrapers and dams?

Or does power lie with the slow flowing stream

Quenching the thirst of Mother Earth's children?

Is power in space ships flying to the moon?

Or in an active volcano reminding us of our own mortality?

Does the truth of a photo

Lie within the wisdom of the eyes that behold it?

A picture can capture a thousand words

And could tell you many a story,

But has it captured the beginning or the end?

© A. Clarke

Heavens! its been a while since posting here. Life has given me a lot to deal with over the last few months and it hasn't finished with me yet {{chuckle}}. Have been reading posts though and became aware of a lady who lost a Grandchild. If she doesn't see this maybe someone could pass it on to her...as I hope the poem below might be of some comfort for her , and to others who have lost babies.

It was written upon my research into the meaning of animal spirit guides, as both the Celts and some Native American peoples, shared the same belief concerning the spirit of the Swan. Please except my healing Blessings that come with this Prayer/poem

THE SWAN MAIDEN

As each new babe is born,

She wraps her gentle cloak

Of soft white feathers

Around each tiny form.

Secure in her embrace,

Each child listens,

To the gentle Heartbeat

Of life's beating drum.

Secure in her embrace,

She breathes her gentle breath

Upon each tiny form,

A sacred gift of Spirit,

For each child is special,

Each child is unique.

And when the time is right,

Each will claim its sacred spirit

And step into the light.

And if by chance

A life upon this material plane

Is not meant to be,

The babe is placed upon her back

And safely taken home.

Where Angel's hands

And Angel's wings are waiting,

To gently cradle each tiny form,

And shower them with Angel's kisses

To welcome them back home.

© Ali Clarke

GAIA - THE MOTHER AWAKENS

There is something in the wind today,

As she blows and howls, laughs and whispers,

Sharing her secrets with the tree's and animals

While mischievously playing with my hair,

And bringing a rosy glow to my cheeks.

But today her presence feels different.

I pause awhile to tune into her essence,

Then I realise it is not the wind at all,

But the breath of Gaia.

She has woken from her winter sleep,

To breathe new life, that spring may enter.

As if to confirm my deepest thoughts

A newborn lamb takes its first breath,

And bleats for the comfort of his mum.

In the hedgerow, not yet in leaf,

I spy a marvel of perfect skill,

The nest of Mr Robin Redbreast,

For it is a miracle that has taken place,

Beyond the skill of mortal man.

Wherever Gaia breathes, new life springs forth,

As Crocus and Daffodil brave the cold,

To emerge from their winter beds,

Spreading a blanket of sunshine yellow

As if to say ‘Hello' so glad you have come.

As I watch the birds busy with their courting,

I can't help but marvel over the complexity,

And breathtaking beauty of it all.

And how man, in his blind arrogance,

Could possibly think he could improve

Upon Perfection.

One can only wonder at such stupidity?

© A. Clarke

SPRING

The Mother has awakened

From her deep winter's sleep,

As her life-blood pulsates through her body,

All of nature responds to her loving touch,

In excited anticipation of new life

Taking its first breath.

Tenderly the sun bestows warm kisses

Upon the Mother.

A sensuous bonding between the two of them

Ignites the flames of passion for life,

For all who live within, and upon her body.

From the trees in first bud

To the dawn chorus of birds in full song,

The sheer joy of her awakening can be felt all around us.

The web of life the Creator weaves,

Is both intricate and sacred,

And the Mother never fails to honour

Her part in this integral web of life,

Never more so can this be felt and seen,

Than at spring time, as she renews her vows

In the warming embrace of the sun.

I can't help but feel...

Spring is one huge celebration

Of the sacred union between Sun and Mother Earth,

That both feeds and sustains our web,

So that we may always be connected to the whole

In order that we can survive.

It saddens my heart to see that so many have become

Disconnected from the web.

They have removed themselves from fertile ground,

And maybe it is time to remember that...

Wild flowers, once picked, quickly wilt!

© Ali C.