Hydrangea Hideaway
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Written for the contest sponsored by Unseeking Seeker " Bilocation" on line of enquiry written by Seeker "as an aspect of God indivisible from the whole presence ensouls feeble form to fulfil on earth its ordained role we recognise we are not the actor enacting the life drama in trance so we bilocate our awareness that joyful be soul’s dance"
Listen to the shifting winds
carrying musical meteors,
there soars floating
letters between
lyrical lines,
emanating runes
that reflect
revolving rhymes
of faith within
and beyond.
For we are more than
just spectators or actors,
in this theatrical life,
we are the assigned
maestros of God
orchestrating joy,
through strings of
interconnected instruments.
In the midst of reality,
when chaos knock
on the glass doors of
our thoughts,
we unchain
celestial portals,
switching off
scorpion-skinned sagas
scattered along scorching
hems of rainless deserts,
to slumber within
warm arms of intuitions,
allowing eagle feathers
dipped in lotus water
to caress fragile psyche.
Yet through roses-tinted
lens of seasonal changes,
we see greener
blades of willows
in yesterday,
and smell roses sweeter
than jasmines.
While consciousness unveils
glistening gardens,
where trees stand taller.
But to see the
roots rushing with
twinkling truth,
should we let raspberry
rain to cleanse foggy mists
clouding our sight?
As it is in darkness
we find flickering fairy-lights
guiding our third-eye to
stroll in dual dimension,
an astral realm,
where spring-falls
are the mirror to the
heart of storms,
there we wear
an amethyst armor
carved with
seraphic hieroglyphics,
from the holy manuscript
that unravels a road
to waltzing beneath
aquamarine auroras,
sprinkling ribboned bliss
upon a home
where hope is the
blooming fragrance,
curtained with
dancing dreamcatchers.
So remember,
to connect with
celestial rays
to refocus and shift
the last light within
our anxious mind,
as voices echo
in rustic refrains,
shackling inner-peace,
while perspectives and
rolls reversed,
we’ll walk out of the closet
that suffocates us,
allowing karmic kismet
to clothe us in divine jewels
from cosmically
connected comets.
Perhaps, we are
daydreamers,
dressed in
daffodils and dahlias,
soul searching like
wanderers on the quest
of finding an alchemist within,
to devise a mystical plan.
As we’ve seen places
that were never walked upon,
where sands of life
left footprints
in the chakras of our soul,
like emerald
skies of déjà vu.
Let this be us weaving
whimsical tales within
skin and bones,
etched in sage
for the eyes that
place labels of lies
on our cloak of solace.
When mind drifts to
an enchanting land,
where the moon never
phases while time turns fickle.
This is the eternal
escape from reality,
a hydrangea hideaway,
away from hills of hypocrisy.
Copyright © Ink Empress | Year Posted 2024
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