Higher meditation
Out of touch is out of sight
So let silence be the key
Penetrate through the depth of darkness to catch a light
Remember let silence be the key
Higher meditation
There is a voice in silence
If you listen in silence a revelation is sure
So be endowed with focus
Maintain your direction towards
The voice in silence
Remember it revelation
Written: September 06, 2025, for contest sponsored by: Constance La France
Quote: "On a day when the wind is perfect, the sail just needs to open, and the world is full of beauty". By Rumi
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Listen—not with ears, but with aching skin,
where whispers meander extreme within.
The zephyr is not a cursory breeze,
But divination along with the trees.
It jiggled enigmatically from the stone
and carved its ideology into this bone.
It speaks in whispers and traumatized song,
of where we're accurate, and what went wrong.
Jaw-dropping stories in stillness and hum,
of battles bewildered and those to come.
It hurdles through periods, grief, and grace,
leaving outward fingerprints on the face.
It wears no enthrone, yet huddles the kings;
It severs the tresses on buried things.
So listen in not for roaring decree—
But toward the breath underneath the plea.
The wind will not delay, solicit, or steam,
It is bombastic and allows you to stream.
Zephyr adorns twigs and allows grass to gleam.
Here in the midst of summer
surrounded by the lakeland feels
what glory to look out upon
makes one cry out to tell
There's a stillness in the air
so silent, one can hardly hear
the sun shines through the clouds
warms the air, listen in your ear
Often you feel like wandering
taking in all that's freshly new
this is a beautiful creation, you see
divinely born, you see right on cue
This is indeed a wonder of wonders
one has to be still to take it in
on the first day, when Adam fell
what God had made is marred by sin
Pray to be taken to that original
that first moment so real in time
when all was just perfectly sublime
dream on and feel it in its prime
(Just some thoughts spending in the English Lake District a few weeks ago.)
God and the Angels descend
Melody echoes
The harps obey
The Mighty beam stretches from Heaven to Earth
The prophecy established
Judgement through redemption
Heaven’s count
Spans worldwide
Tongue confessions
A world awakened
Not knowing the outcome
Woes to better
Chances after chances
Chosen one’s
No pause
No more wait
Time has accelerated
The time clock stopped
Moment of truth
Standing on promise
Heaven’s commitment
Biblical words held true
Gather and listen in the cracked sky
Judgement time
Revelation speaks
JUST
IF I could smell you,
Would you smell like our Father;
If I look at you do I see God;
If I could taste you would you be liken manna;
If I could hold you, you'll be liken second skin;
If I could speak to you would you listen?
If I wereto dream of you would you glisten;
The more I think of you
The more I ask God if you.......
JUST
IF I could nurture you Would you recieve?
If I were to lead as God would direct Me
Could you believe?
if I were we're to pray would you pray
On your knees, praying for His grace, joy, love and peace
For the less fortunate, in Godwhom you trust;
Admist again and always
If I could speak to you your soul and heart
Would you listen in whole or part
As per your soul beats in part breath life in the the Father's heart
6/5/25
By
dedicated to
Abihail Adamilo Katarma
A crimson sky breaks the distant shore,
The village Elder telling a story of folklore,
The children laugh and play joyfully,
Their laughs echoing happily,
The mothers hold their babies close,
Families sitting by the fire, with the ones they love most,
Nearby owls listen in a tree,
“Cloaked by the night, they’re not scared, they’re free”,
A distant howl, travels to their ears,
They ought to be frightened, but they haven’t in years,
They know they are safe, they respect the wildlife,
They no longer sharpen the blades of their knife,
The moon is high in the sky,
The feast is over for that night,
The villagers have a smile upon their face,
Excited for the next gathering in a few days.
With steady hands and hearts that care,
A doctor walks where few would dare.
In silence they listen, in chaos they stand,
Mending the body with a gentle hand.
Through sleepless nights and endless calls,
They rise above, no matter the falls.
The scalpel’s edge, the patient’s plea,
They carry it all, with quiet dignity.
In every life saved, in every soul healed,
A doctor’s purpose is quietly revealed.
Not for glory, nor for praise,
But for the hope that guides their days.
I, too,
wish to carry a bullet
for the ducks flying through snow.
I, too,
want to live under neon lights—
blue light still my closest friend.
I, too,
take cold showers
until my hands stop shaking,
snapping red like nerves.
I, too,
clasp my hands after killing a mosquito,
even if blood and genes mean nothing.
I, too,
walk through mist,
loving the snails that move slow like me.
I, too,
carry an apple in my throat.
If the mic drips with honey,
I’ll recline and listen in silence.
Do we truly see eye to eye, or merely pretend to align?
A prayer-like wind passed through me.
If only time can solve this,
how could I not
I, too,
want to type without thinking.
If I press the TAB key,
maybe summer and fall will appear.
I, too,
bury my face in my frontal lobe,
whispering “today, for sure,”
until it stops being a lie.
I, too,
wanted cherry blossoms.
Who swept the petals away before I arrived?
I almost asked aloud—
but there was no one to answer.
I hear the sound of clanging and banging from a distant source
Like an orchestra of metal pots that have fallen on the kitchen floor
which brings a ringing to my inner ear
then a low vibration comes as I stand still
This frequency happens frequently
transmitting a language I've yet to unveil
Creating a magnetic peace during its stay
One day I hope to understand the meaning behind it all
A tale probably woven over a thousand years
I hear the sound and listen in
The tone goes away just as mysterious as it came
why would we deny
that our third eye pulsates
supported by a magnetised spine
which holds erect all energies
enlivening toroidal heart
sharing is caring and yet
divine secrets remain esoteric
even if we shout them from treetops
since we are poised in singularity
and ears that listen, in duality
For a few seconds, I can forget the human,
I can just know the humanity.
Margaret from across the street is eighty-three,
My mother is fifty-three.
Sweet tea is eternal, it would seem.
They're talking candy for Christmas:
Peanut brittle and cinnamon rolls,
Potato taffy and candy canes,
Holidays and pine trees wrapped up in twinkle lights,
And in a shimmering tinsel.
And I can forget about the human,
I listen in on just humanity.
One day, I think, I hope to be Margaret,
talking to a friend thirty years younger,
from across the street.
Trading stories for tomatoes,
and crocheted blankets for smiles and strawberries.
Craft fairs for Christmas,
And love unspoken.
Are you waiting for a word that burns your heart like so much flame?
Are you waiting for a voice of thunder calling out your name?
Are you waiting for the world to shake as God reveals His plan?
Are you angry at the silence that you just don’t understand?
The Lord will speak in the silence of your heart.
Are you listening?
The world can be so loud, it can drown out the Lord’s voice
So that though you ache for silence you are drowning in the noise.
It’s easy to ignore the quiet song you hear inside.
And it’s easy to return to the noise in which you hide.
The Lord will speak in the silence of your heart.
Are you listening?
Take some time to listen in your hectic, busy day.
Toss away distractions, you may hear what God will say.
If you find that your heart longs to hear and know God’s holy word,
Open up your heart where His quiet voice is heard.
The Lord will speak in the silence of your heart.
Are you listening?
Highly entertaining
Charlatan; painting
Manipulating, brewed
Tasty food so others can
Swallow, digest and process.
Deals and wheels
With their golden tongue
Of sweet sugar and honey,
A thief.
A confidence trickster
In order to obtain and kidnap your mind,
Money, power, fame,
Through pretense or deception.
Leads not knowing north or south
East or west, day or night, but deceiving
People with polished words their believing.
As long as they paint a story vision, they drew
Those that listen, in their mind it's true.
5/9/2024
I am always in competition against myself, it is free.
Playing word games, while I listening to the droning TV
You do not even watch! My husband says amused.
He is right. I use it like a radio, like we did in 1942.
I can get much accomplished while I listen in.
I have knitted and crocheted afghans during the din.
The white noise of the TV is therapeutic to me.
I have my ears ready, but rarely watch the TV.
Beneath the arched vault of infinity, immerse yourself in the mystified blue,
Where loneliness utters incantations in silent reverberations
With a tempered voice,
In melodies of screaming blue, divine sarabandes,
Deep tones from a subtle bass, dotted with electrum sparks.
Listen in the azure penumbra to the bright furies of stillness,
The piercing, insinuating hiss of a voice in indigo and soiree,
Painting a picture in clandestine duet,
With feathers of vibrant azure and the nocturnal trees of the sky.
Blue invokes a sacred lexicon, the cryptic nimbus of aquamarine,
A work in melodic tones, an archaic poetry, balm for the soul,
Deciphering the serene hieroglyphs of the firmament,
Minor verses that nestle in the endless azure plain,
In a prose text adorned with noble crocus flowers.
Blue upon blue in unhurried hymns,
Voices whispering gracefully green the evening’s blue adornments
Of the lullaby fluttered in celestial waves,
In the cobalt ocean of encompassing midnight hope,
Speaking with wisdom, in the mysterious language of blue.
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