In a winter of freezing earth,
I am reminded of my birth;
born in the severe, with yet the horizon of Spring as Promise.
I have lived as any good woman, humble and defiant.
Experienced in love.
Listening to the only voice I know.
Religion, was never the Promise.
Spring was; The renaissance of Man, and sound.
Not blood and crowns, though it is a history
we must honor,
for it is history, itself- the telling of the story of man,
that is honorable.
Tragedy, Comedy, Romance, act as genres of gesture- how life is perceived and carried out. War stories continue, thrillers are sought, and power bought
as scores are made to depict and create feelings; to evolve us, and our understanding- for music is some true language of the soul. Humans, the expression of this, the most, for we have created a true bridge to God through our language with instruments.
As heavy as it is,
light we must make it.
and love, we must forward,
for the world is drying up. She is crying, and in drought
and the guides of this world bleed in tears,
as so do I.
Yet see I...that Spring has arisen,
and Spring is on her way.
There is a warmth to the air in the Horizon-
a thrill looking on, towards the Sun;
towards the profoundness of Hope.
There is something, bone chilling,
in the depth of man's accomplishments,
and this time spent on earth. Like an antelope becoming present and alert to a sudden sound in the grass, so some of us are forced in the alike,
to these moments in history passing before our eyes. Imagine the world watching,
when Hiroshima Hit. Or when The first rocket blew up on live television. or when we witnessed the twin towers, hit, in live time. Like alert animals, we arose, focused on the TV, as if we were watching it before our eyes.
We are a tribe, the peoples and nations of this planet. We are a Human Tribe- A Race.
It is a beautiful and mysterious existence- and yet we are connected by the history that catalogues our birth as a race, our evolution, our rise, our falls, and our in-betweens.
I've heard the most beautiful music on this planet.
and I've had a heating blanket to get me through the tough winters.
and the sun, still always,
finds a way.
As does man, Music evolves with us, bridging something
much purposeful.
The enchanted comes to life here. we, as Humans have always found some nature in us, to see to this.
And so had God.
Swayed, I bend to the flow here; natures torrential even of emotions,
but so the winds and tides of elements rage on us.
Bringing destruction,
but always more life.
Bringing life...
but always, more destruction.
Conclusions, and recanting. Seeds are always sown here. Always laid. Ever grown;
and where Faith has never died, no matter how many times,
we've faced threats of having it snuffed out.
Always a formidable foe. Loving never enough till an unknown time would make it so,
when by usually, all would seem too late...
and that seem s the summation as well of man.
Ever arriving late.
when we do however, we arrive with a vengeance.
The Wrath of the Titans.
as once the Gods' DNA may have given life,
to our own.
Arrive...I think, we have.
For it is The Winter of Spring.
Something far off in the background has changed the skies.
The Air.
Like Special Forces at work.
and though the ground is cold
the shiver in my bones bracing the chill...
I look up, to the horizon.
and I feel the warmth of Spring as a promise.
The Antelope of my tribe look as if all honoring some sky King,
and I look,
and see God's hand
reaching down.
Has God shown himself to me all along?
Had I but need just the eyes to see? As clear as day?
and like a vision,
it swept away, but left a sweet feeling; a security.
The antelope knew food was on the way,
as so I too, saw justice for the first time.
We all breathed, letting go the holding of our concern.
The sun, had a promise now, pf a swift return,
and I saw God,
for the first time.
all it took,
was man,
man's music,
and me.
