we ebb and flow to
invisible forces around us,
while deep within us storm-clouds
descend and snow arrives on a whisper;
a blanket of white
changing our keenness,
while fortifying our faith, our
sharpness of vision, our
hopefulness for
living now
and in the future…
With every breath I
pray for whiteness to arrive
on the wings of love and honor,
and for Truth to flow as a purging
river through the burgeoning hordes
of darkened souls
incarcerated by insanity’s
delusions, and the razor-edged
chains of never-ending exploitation…
.
Such are the enigmatic
histories of ancient civilizations;
wildflowers appearing briefly
upon the scrolls of time;
the Anasazi,
the Mayan,
the Aztec,
the Mixtec,
the Zapotec,
the Rognvald’s
traversing great oceans,
living in valleys, or deep within
alcoves carved into varnished cliffs,
on high mountainous ridges, or
unforgiving deserts –
mystifying and baffling all
those who investigate – ancient cultures
enshrouded in underground caverns, along rivers,
prospering, vanishing, but always leaving behind unique
legacies of art, music, and words, to ascertain and learn from.
Sadly, these cultures, in all their nobleness and mystery,
are gone and now only guidelines for exploitation
to a pandemic of self-centered, pandering,
skeptical, greed-mongers who use them
as a means to further personal
agenda and cause profit
.
Notwithstanding our
dreams and outlooks; or our
unfailing tendency to misread the
signs along the paths we walk; presuming
we have discernment in the first place, and
that our singularity of spiritual vision elevates
us beyond the evolving tunnel-vision of
so many around us;
all things
remain firmly in the
hands of a loving Creator
whose ways are not our ways,
and whose thoughts are far beyond
our power to comprehend.
.
Still… we are
ALL framed by freewill
and personal choices, and,
where we choose to plant our seeds
will always demarcate the harvest
gleaned from our choices.
.
So each of us press on . . .
.
And life continues to
ebb and flow to invisible
forces, while deep within us
storm clouds quietly descend and
snow arrives on a soft whisper;
A BLANKET OF WHITE
encouraging our feelings of understanding
and the perceptions of those around us


richard lloyd cederberg
           Between the Cracks - A Monumental Journey Series