The evening air, the fading light, the warmth, mid summer, sitting around a table, trees to the left, grass at the feet, a beer in one hand, a few friends around. They were meeting with a Spirit, a stranger but a friend, the power of the universe was in their hands. The words of old were lost in translation, one of them utters, they all agree. The number of wars fought in the name of God, all because of the translations. Every way you look at it, it has to be a flowing river, and it has to be allowed it’s natural course. Was he talking about the river, the words, or was it themselves. He them made a triangle with his hands, it’s this simple. We are all part of the living earth, given talents and energies, how we respond is the same plight as the gardener and the crops, it’s what you put into the experiences that decides the outcome. They looked at each other, they were all young fathers, there children’s future depended on what they did, with the garden.
He’ll arrive, the child waits, prays regularly, says it in private, no one knows, his prayer. Solomon listened, he was a child too, of His Father, the trouble was, which the small child didn’t know, that those with talents, sold them for cash, to transform their own lives, others an after thought.
At school he concentrates, he’ll arrive, the promise. Day passes into weeks, the weeks become a semester, a year, the child still waits. Seeking comfort, anything to ease his anxiety, he dabbles in playing mind games, when that comfort leaves him, he dabbles with pills, the alcohol follows, the rest is history. The void had to be filled, not with empty promises, but with today. The changes going on globally, were just a reflection of what the Big Child had to endure, just as Bob Dylan, Leonard Cohen sang about.
He sits in the corner, doesn’t talk, refuses to co-operate, won’t eat vegetables, he is making his complaint, amen to the Big Child.
Before matters worsened for all the big children, it was time those who hid the secrets of true wisdom,
and the many warnings given down through the ages, opened up. Solomon saw the Holy Spirit, the other gifts too, God Most High was not myth, and those in positions of authority were under the spotlight like never before, amen.
no more empty spaces, those drab memories, love is not a competition, the winners are often the losers, it’s the heart that needs reminding, we are all gifts of a kind. Solomon was no fan of victim culture, and those who used emotional times to fund raise. how could anyone praise the need for their services, if those that attended them were those most in need, a new mentality was required,and that Christmas spirit was there to remind. So many worrying for a whole range of reasons, so many looking to the new year, forgetting
about the season, and it was hard to blame them. emotionally, these days remind us of love lost, those that have departed, those that went away but never came back, leaving the emptiness inside. Filling the void, was filling the heart with goodness not the hatred so many attach to. He saw miracles everyday, they wondered, why he thought, Just as the Great One promised, fill the void with Love, and watch the world transform around you, amen.
TV bang slap images in my head,
alluring teasing enticing new,
haven’t seen that before,
eyes trawl across the screen,
power cut medication gone,
programming suddenly stopped,
someone put the breaks on,
does anyone understand,
the assault on the young mind,
okay situation is fixed,
eyes glued to the screen,
barbie doll esteem and empowering,
what else do you expect them to say,
who comes up with the slogans,
usual spin doctor of course,
the children we groom so easily,