The pages are still blank, but there is a miraculous feeling of the words being there, written in invisible ink and clamoring to become visible. ~Vladimir Nabakov

Thursday, March 20, 2008


Walking in the shadows as a ghost
Sensing frequently the lives of most

Their voices unseen yet incredibly loud
Light and dark both equally profound.

Hearing them now as I did back then
They call and beckon me to come
But when?

Awake they are shadows from many angles
In dreams they appear an army of angels

Then a figure arrives a prime message to say
Unable to hear it and therefore cannot convey

Yet the meaning somehow is clear to obey
Sleeping energy surged in my blood of red

As he repeated a name at the edge of my bed
While I became at one with the one who said
Paralyzed and motionless my body there laid

He said, I ask you now to hear me strong
Will not judge you nor guide you wrong

Embrace your life and deliver the gift
Then sending light visions through a rift

Wake with peace and a vital task
There is no need to wear a mask

Do not question nor ever ask,
Carry water of life in thy flask

Sensing perhaps it was not a dream
Restful calm spread my wings so free

Message to deliver with joy and glee
I woke once more a messenger to be

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