Day 10: Authenticity

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“When they kept on questioning him, he straightened up and said to them, “Let any one of you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her.” John 8:7

Authenticity ~ Are we? Are we our real selves or do we hide behind labels, titles, beliefs or gods? Real; Am I, or are you? Do you believe that God wants us to be real (our true selves) or something that is described in a book or at church? Belief systems often tell us how we should be or look. Maybe TV, or a televangelist, or an ancient religious texts or thoughts from our grandparents, or something that we have studied and sought to achieve, may have influenced our choices. These avenues of influence that we adapt, but we aren’t necessarily supposed to become, overcome and mask the real you and I. So, the question is: Are we wearing a mask or have we adapted to a mold that is not intended for self?

The reason this scripture was chosen is for the reason of sometimes authenticity costs us discomforts and safety. We risk a secure part of nature that we’ve hidden from our true self behind a mask. It is cozy there and no one will judge us if we look and talk like the pack. We won’t be rejected, or disliked by fellow humans. It costs us something because we loose our authentic self and God sees us lost in another mans designs. Someone may throw a stone at us. This is not comfortable. So, as we work jobs we were not created for, or participate in activities that aren’t like our spirits we loose our authenticity…

Finding our authentic self takes years, but it is possible. It’s who you were made to be… You are unique and created for something greater than expected…. You already know this.

Day 9. Deducing Assumptions

Examine and deduce like a scientist who allows for grace and mercy
Examine and deduce like a scientist who allows for grace and mercy

“You who have tried to be justified by the law are alienated by Christ.”

Galatians 5:4

I don’t have to talk the same as you, nor do you have to think like me either. I don’t have to dress like you either, nor do you have to look like me. As a matter of fact, we can resemble Renoir or the opposite, Picasso.

You are free to be yourself. Please, don’t look like the guy on tv, and please, don’t talk like her either. I might judge you wrongly.

We all judge. It is innate, intuitive, god given and it is protective. However, while deducing a circumstance or person subtract your personal possibilities of error from the equation. Figure out the percentage of miscalculations or delusions that are made within your assumptions and subtract them from your/my judgements.

Deducing renders grace and mercy. The two are not in the absolutes of black or white judgements. Grace and Mercy are found in grey ares.

Then, I consider killers and murderers. I think they are subject to God’s hands; I’m not equipped to see the whole picture, lucky for them.

Sophia, Tera Lord and Spirit

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 Sophia, Tera Lord and Spirit A Poem for Elysia

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In and out, as gentle as a soft rain or summer seashore, is the daughter Spirit                                  

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Pushing or pulling is not the characters of her mother, Holy Sophia

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Her yin and yang possess the softness of clouds

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Going the way of peace and pure serenity

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Fear; nor doubt dare try her walls

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Their power simply dissipates while in her presence

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All strength isn’t; as it never has been

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It never will be, in heaven

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Threats and violence come from Earth

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The vibrational tones are hellish

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They only bully the vulnerable

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Our goal is selective hearing loss

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And, laughter at Taurus’ black soul

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Self lies are Tera Lord’s embodiment

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He is unknowing and faint of Sophia

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She who walks amongst harps and Lyres

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No battle plan has the stalker

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Adorned in the finest gauze linens

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Taurus watches Spirit crouched like a lion

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Her body iridescent in the night’s Moon

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Glaring visions; he ponders as Sophia sees

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Glides, her fingertips touching the child’s temporal mind

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Blessing’s whispered; she covers Son of Adam.

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From the dark corners, Tera waits.

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Leo, he is not, yet he acts, as if, he was ~

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Faith adorns her head with Lilies

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Hating he despises her, for he can’t conquer, the gods

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Mercy rules Spirits heart

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Tera hopes Spirit shall fall prey

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Hope? Raising her eyebrow, She hides her laugh.  

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Thinking; he has her and is victorious, at last.      

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She lets him believe; as he so boasts.        

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Then, vanishing, Sophia has no time for silliness.

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This angered him again; next time.  

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Spirit decides, if there will ever be, a next time… 

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Tera are you so ruthless that you would allow the king to sever your child into?

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Do you not know Sophia loves Spirit?

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She is her child just as Adam is yours.

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But, you are selfish.

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You permit destruction in the name of pride.

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Spirit is Sophia’s kindred and the golden child, too.

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Day 3, They Labelled Me a witch…. :-( and I cried that day

Day 3

“When the  Lord brought back  the captives of Zion, we were like men who dreamed.”

Psalm 126:1

My lessons  in learning. “They labelled me a witch that day and I cried. Sadly, had it of been in the 1600’s or there about, they would have burned me at the stake.” 

Dreaming and being apart by choice from the one who loves unconditionally in the rotten state of purification, he restores to His vine a fruit with fragrant  blossoms.

What have I learned while sojourning the dead?

Most men are dead though they believe they live and life is found in belief and relationship to the creator. There is no life separate from him and he does not condemn. The serving of “other gods” are my wondering thoughts that do not allow His enlightenment. For in every topic on earth, God is. And, He is knowledgeable about everything including the forbidden subjects. He still  teaches me and I am grateful.

The only judgement is that of ourselves and non other, unless of course, I’ve worn their shoes for a lifetime. Judgement arises from fear of that which is not understood.

Stairway To Heaven Led Zeppelin

Dear John

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I was leaving then, on a day such as this, with my suitcase in my hand.

But a tsunami came and took me away thus leaving my portmanteau behind.

If you find it dear, please, know you were near to my heart break at that time.

Treasures of gold and diamonds of blue are not fond memories, I held of you.

Old Dear John letters within the luggage were left on the shores, in lieu ~

WP©04/30/2015

Second day

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The scripture I’ve chosen is one of those lines that can condemn; however, I’m going to apply it in a positive manner and only point it at me, myself and I. This will be one of those times one can write about the self and hopefully not have too many “sighs.”

So here goes my application of applied self to scriptures that can condemn.

It is no surprise that when I read this passage it clearly explained that teaching, preaching or giving scriptures to others are meant first for the self and if (this one in particular) directed at someone else is judgmental.

Having written this above statement please note that the verses mean something to me as well as others and is there for individual interpretation for self reflection. In other words, the meaning and content will be individually comprehended and the message given to me will not necessarily mean the same to you.

So I thread lightly when giving the words and use them carefully for myself.

“Woe to you experts in the law, because you have taken the keys to knowledge. You yourself have not entered, and you have hindered those who were entering.” Luke 11;52

How often have I created harm rather than good in the name of God. The way that I now interpret God is far different than the way I felt 45 years ago, which was a condemner, and now, I see him/God in a masculine/feminine presence  as a lover and encourager of mankind who loves all men and women no matter what their condition of their soul/ego maybe sojourning. Because he loves me, just as I am, so I know he too, loves you, as well.

So, having said all this, God and I begin again. This is my second day to reunite with my lord.

The Greener Ocean?

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And from the waters holding deep emotion,

She then flew out from the depths into the wide open.

Searching for freedom from taunting terrors

She pushed up and out into their fresh bearers…

Their promise of love and good fortune,

Caused her to breath from their airs of misfortune.

Leaving behind the ocean of tears

And pressing into the place promised without fears…

Would she find her hearts desire

Or will she sink into deeper sorrow ~

The Essence of Old Lace, Grandmother’s and Moth Balls

My grandmother
My grandmother, “Bigmother.”

The abandoned home of my grandmother’s bred too many spiders.

But, hiding on the window seal were her Earthly treasures.

And, going to the alter, of her lasting thoughts,

I placed one hand on her Bible and the other on my heart.

Closing my eyes and feeling that time, knew we were not apart…

My grandmother then spoke to me, and said, “I’m so proud of you, as you are, a work of art.”

So, I breathed the moment in reverence of her lovely essence

And departed with a smile knowing ~ She was supernaturally present…

Soulmates Found in Other Times

Deadwood or reinvention
Deadwood or reinvention

Soulmates Found in Other Times

By Bonnie Jennings 2015

the greens of spring vibrate abundance
on the distant flight of winter
The chirping and sounds of life continued
among the living of this planet
The deer graze without hunger
on the meadows of rolling mountains
Awe the aromas of the forest
that invite us into enchanting stories
holding her sweetly amidst the flowers
kissing her gently the ghostly lovers
who perished in memories within her sorrows

Celtic For The Day. Grasping The Hem of His Garment

Grasping God. To know him is to love him…

 

St. Patrick’s prayer in Gaelic 

http://www.irishpage.com/patrick/deercry.htm

My Covering

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* Note: Tornados were close by my home and together we snuggled sat, my 5 animals and I,  in a dark closet we waited until the storms passed, so later I wrote this… 

My Covering 

By Bonnie Jennings

The storm threw bolts of illuminated swirling wind

 On the horizons of East and of West 

The rolling vibrations shook my heart of fainting

Amidst the closet of our hiding of fears and trembling

The weather fell calm and out of the thunder

On the place where I do slumber

Oh, the desire for comfort and embrace

Of the tender human like Christ

Of His mercies and His grace

To touch him for’ He coddled me 

While in anguish and in longing distress.

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Tearful and Demanding that God Send His Angels

Tearful and demanding that God send his angels
“To please minister to my sorrow”
However, no shape of a human angels came
Only 3 dogs with wagging tails so joyfully wanting to serve me.

Suddenly I laughed knowing that angels come unaware
And, God, knows my heart beyond comprehension.
Thus He sends his commissioned pups to love.
And, It causes me to cry, it causes me to know, it causes me to see that God truly does care.

So when you see a ferrel cat or dog wondering a lonely lonesome highway,
Then you must pick it up with love and knowing that ~
God sends the best human lovers He has.
They are simply cats and dogs that mother ~ God’s Lost people.
And, they travel frightening roads to find us.

The roads they follow are treacherously hot or cold.
But, nothing stops their mission.
They are sent by God to do a work.
We humans are their intentions and they bare many burdens.

They will not give up even under the cruelest reasons…
They are angels that we are unaware.

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My little JoJo
A White Wolf? This was a ghost seen from my late mothers back window of her home. I was outside and took the picture of this wolf thinking I saw her standing there. Instead it was a wolf's face.
A White Wolf? This was a ghost seen from my late mothers back window of her home. I was outside and took the picture of this wolf thinking I saw her standing there. Instead it was a wolf’s face.
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Kashi, when he was a street dog and was scruffy.
Bops my ferrel cat
Bops my ferrel cat
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My sons dog Javi, giving me love…
Atli, my sons cat
Atli, my sons cat

Finding Home Again

Finding Home Again

my art
my art

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“Awe,” the radiance; so bright.
Then, follow it, with all might.
The road course shall lead by day.
Rocks, turns, stickers and curves; climb anyway…

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My prejudiced thoughts; lofty visions of you.
Fiery images deflect a golden hue.
Imagined you, bronzed, dazzling, and vein.
We danced; then came rain.

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Caught too long there; my Idol thoughts; so dear.
Washed away; with my tear.
My arms bound, and mouth sealed.
Woven, hey! What’s the deal?

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OH, My God! I’ve Been Caught!
The coven’s web intendedly taut!
The feast I am; His delight.
Oh, fairy friend! By the firelight! Here I am!

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Now the spiders home virtually unseen,
Vaguely tucks into that corner beam.
But, see the dim light, growing so bright?
A fairy then, slashes the silk, so tight.
And I then, fell from the web of fright.

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Still arms tangled by silken threads
I pushing out with utter dread,
Thus, bracing my fainthearted fall
Then, the spider and the fairy brawl.

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Wham, bam, to and fro,
from the deathly fight they bow
Looking, whom’s, my fairy friend?
Noticing the fairy, it must be Joe.

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Underneath the spider Joe waves thumbs up, You’re alright!
Now run like hell! Into the light!
Run away little bate!
For, the fate of the firefly might be too late…

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By Bonnie Jennings ©1/12/2010FS All rights are reserved and author holds the copyright. Copying or using of any part of the poetry the petitioner must have authors written permission. Thank you.

Lost Friends

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There was a time that I believed just like you.

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We believed that God was good and He would help and protect us.

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Like children we had magical thoughts and fairies and angels played with us.

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We made Daisy Chains and crown our heads with the delicate flower wreaths.

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We sang KumBaYah with gentile smiles around campfires with the strumming guitars.

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We believed that all was well. Now days, where ever one turns, someone is saying come this way or that. Believe, their way or else.

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The voices are thousands and peace from within is lost.

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So, turning away and finding the fairies and angels lost in time of my childhood is where you will find me.

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There I’m not lost, but are found with my familiar friends.

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Angels in Disguise

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One day a sad dog came to my door. There, I opened and my heart was torn because I wanted to take it inside, but instead, I closed the door. I shut the angel out. Years went by and I thought about my action. So, I cried. Thinking about how I could have done this to a poor creature and then asked why I did so. Oh, I made my excuses and there were many. Then many years later I came to realize that sometimes angels aren’t people. But they are lives sent by God who loves us and has met us where we are, and we shun His gifts. And, why people don’t respond to heart aches, not only our own, but of little critters is unanswerable. However, now knowing, God never fails when He sends the angels. So, today when the starving animal approaches your door, remember it is a gift and it was sent from Heaven. Maybe it is for the moment and maybe the dog or cat is there to ask you for food or water or for help finding a permanent shelter and a loving home. Perhaps, it is asking you for help to find it’s way home because it is lost. Just maybe … We can open our hearts and our doors to help in some little way.

The Witchcraft of life

Performing our magic when it seems dull and impossible is a concentration of our wills.

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In quiet “boring” times,

When there seems to be nothing, but nothing, to do

It is then that we can create a masterpiece.

We illuminate the darkness that seems to surround us.

We make it our heaven, and if we lack vision we perish.

So, rise your wand,

Make your life, that which you’ve dreamed of..

Cause it to happen.

You can do it.

Believe, because you must.

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Make it as you envisioned and thought of yourself.

Before the world of voices told you, “no, you’re nothing.”

Don’t believe a word of it, the world’s lies, because it’s not truth.

You are exactly what you imagine.

Nothing greater or less.

It is how you think of yourself.

Your beliefs will lead you.

So, change your beliefs for change.

Cause your world if you so want.

You have the power

God gave it to you.

It is in the tiny mustard seed of faith that will move mountains.

How Many More Breaths

My grandmother
My grandmother

Time

tick-tock; tic- tock; tick, tick, tick.

Time.

WHY?

Nursing homes, memory units, family dispersed.

They ran when my hair turned silver and I smelled of urine.

Oh, this is The United States ~ who else in the world would leave?

What, a silly question,  after all, it was us the free-love generation who started this nonsense.

Really, in truth, we were the “me” generation. Misnamed. The irony makes me laugh.

We called our kids this. They were the product of the all consuming need to be free.

Mom and Dad split, time, after time, after time, all for the image of freedom.

“They’ll get over it.”

Yes, they have and assuredly ~

One plus one equals two. And, two times two equals four.

Physical laws don’t change without the atom bomb.

And, now is waiting.

Waiting, on my clock.

Quietly it tick-tocks; tick-tocks, tick, tick, ticks …

God, how many more breaths must I take?

Feverish Dreams

Flying while dreaming
Flying while dreaming

Feverish Dreams

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Seeming to sleep, resting quietly, you think.

She’s traveling miles from home, over the mountain tops.

The flying vehicle stops and he said, “Get in.” 

“There’s no, time to waist. So, buckle up.”

He pulls the seatbelt through, then, passed the clouds, and away they flew.

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“See!” She pointed, all around about.

“Celestial galaxies everywhere,” she whispered, “not, even, yet imagined.”

There, hidden in space, beyond our thoughts

A veil of stars protecting, the place of her death.

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He showed her one heaven.

There were so many.

“This one is yours for now

There will be plenty.”

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He took her to rest, as if, he loved her.

“The Lilies, so lovely,” she thanked him kindly.

Holding her weight with his arms,

He kissed her brow and said,

“Its time to take you home.”

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At three Am, she sat up in bed.

“Oh, just a dream,” she spoke, “but so real.”

The fever was gone and the headache too,

And the golden man’s memory vaguely haunted her new heavenly view. 

I Know What You’re Up To

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I Know

The young woman tells the final story. Her last chapter is complete. 

“Darkness covered the room. At midnight, the chimes from the grandfather clock resounded a deep, “dong, dong, dong, and dong.”
“The clock didn’t awaken me. The chimes never do, but I always expect them, the others, that is. They’re, always, right on time. It’s their, time to come. I sense it. Like an odor, or breeze or an internal alarm that warns me.

Her mature voice shifts. It changes into a young girls. Under the covers, the seven year old hides. She says that she shivers in fear and dread while they, the male beings, occupy her bedroom.

“Maybe, they won’t notice, that I’m awake. They usually don’t, but one night, they might. What then? What should I do?” She asks.

I don’t know what to tell her. I’ve never had them visit. There are no solutions to help her. I wonder if she is being sexually assaulted? I listen, but there is no mention of touching or fondling, not even a kiss. So, I wait. My antenna will know the moment I should question.

Her eyes are huge. I see she is telling the truth.

“The beats of my heart will surely tell the black cloaked monks, I’m faking sleep.” She sighs and looks up at me with the saucer shaped eyes.

“They enter my bedroom, from out of the closet. Twelve, midnight, when the clock dongs, I know, they are coming. The leaves from the forest that surround our home have shimmering grey colors that seem to dance like stick indians on my bedroom walls. The images fervently sway in madness of movements. I know then, to expect, the friars. And, as certain, as fall follows summer, they will come. Three, of them, usually.” She pauses, then`

“Sometimes four, walk out of my closet from behind the doors.” She whispers with downcast eyes when she tells this story.

“They are extremely tall. They’re working doing, something. My bed covers over my head, cloak their activities. They will peer over my body, looking to see me sleeping. They don’t know everything. But, if I look at them, their red eyes stare. I can’t see a face. They tell me to, ‘shut up.’ Meaness. That’s all I can say. They’re no good.”

I look at her. Dumbfounded. Hopelessly, there is nothing, I can say. After the hypnosis session, she passed the polygraph, which she agreed to, and I don’t know how to help her. What can I say? 

Standing up to leave my office, she adds on her way out ~

“Doctor, the last time they tried to visit, I give them this look. They no longer bother me. And, now, that I’ve got their look, they seldom pay me, social calls….”

She gave me a haunting stare that passed through me. 

“Oh, by the way, doctor … you may want to get rid of the grand father clock in your hall. It keeps your children up. They can’t sleep after the gongs at midnight occur.”

What? I look at her, but she has shut the door. After a brief pause, I ran after her, but she was gone. Bewildered by her last comment, I was paralyzed. Fear overtook me, as I saw the same look on my son this morning.

Manifesting Sophia

The Watchers
The Watchers

Manifesting Sophia

Standing next to The Rivers of Babylon we prayed.

I told you to whisper, Sophia, and there on the banks edge,

She will breathe.

In your loneliness, you will cry,

In solitude, you shall find her.

Standing, by the fresh spring waters,

Her voice, will arise new,

Believe, child. 

Unless you know, she won’t come.

She cannot sojourn the dead,

Not, without your certain, hope. 

Only, in the voice filled with life,

Shall she manifest.

The lifeless carry no spirit. 

The initiator needs the spark.

Speak, and Sophia will sing.

Listen, and her song, you will hear.

Smile when you know.

She came because you asked.