For my Beloved.
As we all wind down, or are winding ourselves up, in these days of Advent (third one coming up next Sunday); waking up to the adstringent cold, going within, or you all on the Southern Hemisphere, expanding and relaxing into the copious arms of the cosmos, supporting our Northern Michaelic iron sword with Raphael's caduceus staff, I give you a poem by WB Yeats, "He Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven", read by Olwyn Fouéré, found on "The Protecting Veil" where Matthew Barley, mainly, plays Tavener on Cello.
Interesting piece...What inspired it?
Oh gosh. Now that would be lifting too much of the veil, I think...
The muses I suppose.
And love, as always.
And how hard it is to accept our divine nature.
I understand...I probably wouldn't say either, however sometimes I think it's best to do so as it may inspire someone else to speak their heart, a rare thing these days. Thank you.
Thank you for the beautifully arranged and read words, I am happy to find you here today, your woven cloth of splendid dark and light as you've been on my mind.
After eating lot's of Christmas candy from our stockings as kids we would happily chomp and chew down bitter sticks of celery, knowing intuitively we needed to balance.
I think of that veil moving, flapping in the wind, well one of two places my mind goes, and there not being a witch in the woods with a candy castle, but the quiet-alone of dark forest, the ice crystals on close inspection glittering in fast and distant sun, fingering the ridges of bark on evergreen.
In richness, I am dreaming with you~
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