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poemsbypel · 9 months ago

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The Phantom (Plant Edition)

All photographs by artists from Pixabay.

Image of a willow tree by Jakub Luksch from Pixabay.

The Phantom comes a-riding, a-riding, a-riding. The Phantom comes a-riding, through the mists of Time. The Phantom comes a-riding, a-riding, a-riding, Striding once again. He rides the Great White Horse and holds a steady course. He’s riding fast. He’s riding hard. He sings in Rhyme. He sings in Morse And holds the long awaited card, the Heart upon the Ace, As He gallops, gallops, gallops through our Time And kicks the dust up, through our Space.

He wears a Rainbow Coat, With a blue scarf, flying from His throat. But His eyes are soft with sorrow; He is coming from to-morrow. He is coming through the night. He is coming with the light. He is coming to reward us.

And as He flies on our Horse, He sings our words of Morse. He sings and sings and sings, upon our Magic Horse of Wings. And now we hear the sounds, the sounds of our Rhyme; And feel the magic, the magic of our Grace, Coming, coming through our Time, As He gallops, gallops, gallops through our Space. He sings to us softly. He sings to us gently. “Little dancers look up now. Watch the colours changing somehow. Hear our footsteps on the Space way And let our feelings open day to day, As the Blue begins to fade away. It’s all over now, Baby Blue. It’s all over now.”

Now the White Winged Horse comes to land And gives a graceful bow. We hear the Music, but where’s the band? Our fears begin to melt; Our hearts are soft; we wonder how. The colourful Rainbow Warrior smiles a greeting, Then takes a Magic Crystal, from His jewelled belt. He breaks His longtime silence and melts away the violence. For He knows the Knowledge, the Knowledge of the Walls And the Power, the Power of the Crystal Balls. With a wink from His eye, He takes the Crystal in His hand, Whispers a command and points it to the sand. The ground begins to murmur; to move to His bid. The earth begins to shake; the stones begin to rise. The sand begins to fly and before our very eyes, Stands the Vision of the Lost Pyramid; Much to our amazement and surprise.

He then removes the seal, from the old stone door And from the chain around His neck, takes the golden master key. The Pyramid is opened, revealing the treasures on the dusty stone floor. He lifts the silver lid from the chest, inside the ancient Pyramid And takes the magic boomerang, the flying wooden stick, Waiting so long for Him, to do His very special trick. He looks at you. He looks at me, But thinks of us and sings of us; And as One, we look at Him in awe. Then suddenly, there seems to be no point at all, To weapons or to war.

He brings to us, His gift of Tears. Tears of Shame; Tears of Knowledge; Tears of Laughter; Tears for the Past; Tears of Joy; Tears of Sorrow; And Tears - Tears for Tomorrow.

Now from His finger, our Longtime Fellow takes His Yin Yang Ring And with a sad sigh, spins it high into the air. It paints a picture in the sky; the colours falling on His hair. In a flash, we see the whole history of Love and War. We see each other, all passing through that same door. The passion, the love, the courage, the greed and the hate Moving joyfully, painfully and endlessly, through that same gate. Then we see the guns go silent, the metal melted down. A soldier appears and then begins to roam And in time, becomes a funny clown. The children laugh and laugh And we see, that he is pleased with this, His gentler and wiser path, which he, for himself has chosen. But sometimes the shadow of his former self, Will flash upon his inward eye And the children laughing, wonder why, Oh wonder why, their funny clown begins to cry.

And now the Phantom spins and turns, His coat of many colours flashes in the sunlight, But His eyes are soft with sorrow. He is coming from tomorrow. He is coming with the light. He is coming to reward us.

And He’s been here, many, many times before, Watching every single act, of love and war, But He couldn’t sing His words of Rhyme. He couldn’t sing his words of Morse. It wasn’t time. It just wasn’t time. That’s why He couldn’t sing, He rode a silent horse, That’s why our weak, began to use some force.

And we thought He didn’t care, Oh how, we thought He didn’t care. We had looked for Him here And we had looked for Him there. Oh how, we had looked for Him everywhere, But we couldn’t find Him, anywhere at all. He lived in a jewelled cave, behind a rainbow waterfall.

Now as the picture fades, the Phantom catches His Yin Yang Ring And from our heart, wipes away the sting. He sings away the cold and melts away the ice. And from a box of gold, inside His rainbow coat, He takes the Magic Crystal Dice And calling, calling to the Heavens, Throws the Magic Seven Sevens. And while we watch the flashing crystals And hear His magic words of Rhyme, The White Horse looks at Him and nods, As He sings His message from the Gods.

A message full of Tears. A message full of Shame. A message full of Joy.

And how were we to know, that our God; Our God named Blue, Was just a little boy, Just a brilliant Hue. And all this time, we lived in fear, of a God, Whose only weapon, was just a little tear And whose only wish, was to watch us play, Upon our magic, swirling space ship; Flying like a rainbow fish, Through His twinkling, twirling, twilight, Sparkling, Space Dish.

And now the Phantom spins and turns, His coat of many colours flashes in the sunlight. But His eyes are soft with joy, He’s come to spread the Word. He’s come to take His Boy. The Age of Blue has come and gone; So magical and mystical and at times, so very hard. But from His rainbow coat, He takes the long awaited card, The Baton for the New Age; The Heart upon the Ace And with a knowing grin and a spring in His toes, He hands it to a smiling child, blessed with the name of Rose; A very Special Girl, full of Power, full of Grace.

And as She takes the ancient card, She looks at Him in mild surprise, With a twinkle in Her eyes. But She knows the Knowledge, the Knowledge of the Walls And the Power, the Power of the Crystal Balls. And now She, begins to spin and twirl And sing and dance without a care. So beautiful, this strange little Girl, Sending colours flying through the air; As She takes, in Her tiny little hands, The Whole Universe. She adds a touch of Pink And the Kiss of Many Lands. She sings Her little Verse, for our Spinning Universe. She dances to the Stars, giving their Hurrahs, Then drops the ancient card, inside Her little purse.

Suddenly, the face of the Phantom turns pure white, As He catches a flash, of falling pure starlight. He gives Rose a kiss and puts it in Her pocket. Then takes another rainbow crystal, from His jewelled locket And with it, writes the Word, upon our magic Boomerang. The Word, as He galloped through our Space, He forever sang. And with His eye upon the Hidden Planet, He hurls our ancient Boomerang through the air And it whistles far, far, far, far out into Space And far, far, far out into Time, To signal, that the Blessing has been cast.

And as we learn from our past, We watch Him raise a new flag, up our mast, With a Love so strong and vast, It will bring a Peace to last and last. And all the time we thought, He didn’t care To share His embrace; His Grace, With the Human Race.

Then with a wave, upon the happy Horse, the Phantom sits. He points His Magic Crystal, at the Pyramid And smiles, as the Wall of Silence splits. He gallops through the Wall and down the Halls of Time, Where the Ancient Books are stored, of Knowledge, Love and Rhyme. And as He rides through the Hidden Door, He kicks the dust up, from the ancient, stone floor, But He leaves no traces. He leaves no trail, Except for the one Word, written on the Boomerang, Which He now engraves, with a feather of fire, Next to the one Word, already written on the Grail.

And this is His Gift of Grace. This is His Present, to the Human Race. The Phantom’s prayer and the Word – “We’re.” The “We Are.” The first Word spoken, by Our Holy Father and Our Holy Mother together; To their Universe, to their Creations, to their Holy Children. We Are the Lord and the Lady. We’re your Divine Parents. You are our Christ Children, in whom We’re well pleased. We’re the Divine Family. The Divine Family is Us. We’re God. We Are the Divine Trinity: God the Father, God the Mother and Our Christ Children. As above, so below. We are the Father, the Mother and the children. Together we are the “We Are”, the “Our” and the “Us”.

The Phantom’s Prayer: “Glory to be our Holy Father And to our Holy Mother And to our Holy Children. It was Us in the beginning. It is Us now And it shall be Us, forever and ever, In Shaa Allah, Hallelujah, Amen.”

Now the Phantom lifts the Holy Grail And His face turns ashen pale, As He drinks the long matured Wine: The Piscean Wine of Time; The Wine of Om; The Wine of Power; The Wine of Wisdom; The Wine of Love; The Wine of Worship; The Wine of Sorrow; And as He drinks away the Blue, He thinks of Us and sings Of Us, And looks towards tomorrow.

Then from His coat of Brightness, He takes a fresh, sweet Wine: The Aquarian Wine of Space; the Wine of We’re; The Wine of Truth; The Wine of Devotion; The Wine of Magic; The Wine of Brotherhood; The Wine of Happiness. And He pours it with His Prayer, into the Chalice. And smiles, as it glitters and bubbles and sparkles Away the fear, away the ignorance, away the malice. A beautiful scent of Rose, fills the Space And a glow of Indigo, shines upon His Face. Then He gently returns the Holy Grail, Alongside the coat of silver armour And the golden mace.

And now the Rainbow Warrior, plays the Pipes of Pan, To awaken all the Gods. He plays the Pipes of Pan, for His lovely, Lady Vulcan. Then He sings His Special Song, so the future won’t go wrong. “When She dances, Her Colours rise and glow; When She sings, Her colours make the Rainbow And have you seen Her wrapped in Pink? Oh, She pushes Beauty, to the brink: So soft and delicate, Her Flower; So strong and timeless, Her Power And can you hear the Pipes of Pan-an Have you seen the Lady Vulcan?”

Then He listens, for Her answer. He listens for the Echo. He listens to the Sounds of Silence, While She, soothes away the violence. And from the far away, Rose Pink Planet, Where nothing, ever seems to go wrong, He hears Her Healing Song. He hears Her Healing Gong. “We’ll be Ours, Ours for a song And We’ll be waiting for Our braves, One and All, Inside Our Magic, Jewelled, Rainbow Caves, Behind our Ancient, Healing, Rainbow Waterfall.”

And with that: The Words “Ommmmmmm” “I’m” (I Am That I Am) “We’re’re’re’re’re’re’re” (We Are What We Are) Flash upon our mirrors; flash upon our Mind; Opening our Heart, to their Love, so kind And echo, echo, echo from the shining Spirit Stars And echo, echo to the sounding, of the Spirit’s Call And echo down our Holy Halls And echo through our Holy Walls And out across our Golden Sands And over our many different Lands, Blessing our confused and frightened, Continents of War and Peace.

Now heard by our patient, gentle Elephant, And in tune, with our regal Lion’s roar And healing, our struggling African Continent, Where the cries of hunger, fill the air, As if we didn’t care; And giving hope, to the frightened animal kingdoms, And the dwindling tribal freedoms. Then the Echo is cheered on by the Spirits, working with the Shamans, As it passes by, on its way, to the Mighty Oceans; Where it’s carried, by our own, desperate, darling Dolphins, As they add their own, special high note, As magical, as any wizard’s potions.

Then the Echo is whistled up with hope, by our playful Dolphins, To the mystical and magical land of Bali. An island in the sun, where the life they lead is holy; For the gentle people, with the Spirits, work and play, To create a wonder, of music, art and dance, day by day And where our forty singing monkeys, Add their special, gentle, grace and beauty Singing, to protect the Gods from the Demons And kept in harmony and balance, by their Shamans While dancing to the music, of the Geckos.

Now, having gathered more magic and charm, Our Words, go gecko-ing and echoing on and on, Over our many islands; bringing their healing balm, To our wild, Land of Birds and Beauty. {New Guinea} Once a paradise for Colour and tribal people, Still living in the trust of Nature’s Bounty; Blessing their strife and blessing their spirit, While they’re fighting for their life; Their Land torn asunder.

Now our ancient and beautiful Birds-of-Paradise, Dressed in colours, so unusual and incredibly nice, Fly the echo, out to sea and drop it with a wish; Where it is joyfully caught and carried, by our flying, rainbow fish, To the Old Continent down under. {Australia} The Land of Desert, Spirit and Thunder, Where it flies and flashes, around our wonderful, Giant Red Rock; A holy and happy place, where the gentle people used to dream a lot And the healing home, of our Great White Roo; But now She spends a lot of time, asleep in Camelot, Because She, doesn’t have a lot to do.

Now after gathering more Healing, more Strength, more Power, The Echo is flown, over the Peaceful Ocean, by our laughing Guuguubarra/Kookaburra, To our beautiful, Southern Māori Home; {Aotearoa/New Zealand} Where we once thought, the giants used to roam And where Peace has found a pretty home. The Echo, having gathered more Hope, more Faith, more Light for our Soul, Is flown with Love, by our Southern Seabirds, to the sleepy South Pole And given to our pretty perfect Penguins, Who are always dressed, so formally and nice And carried with tenderness and care, Over our pure white, Continent of Ice.

Our Words, now clean and pure, are given to our clever Albatross; The one the birds, like to call their boss And with courage in her eyes, She carries the Echo, towards our frightened, Continent of Fires. {South America} Through the smoke and tears, she flies, Where our tender, but frightened, loving trees Rustle a final warning, to our friendly, forest creatures Running from the scorching breeze. And the trees, crying in the smokey sun, Unable to run, finally give up, their longtime healing care And fall into hell, Simply because, they became something to sell. And now the ashes, of our trees Are blown and scattered, with the burning leaves And are no longer able, to clean and renew, Our cool and clear oxygen breeze.

Now our majestic and wise, White Eagle, takes the suffering Echo And flies it, over our melting, snow-capped mountains And through our dark, green jungles, Where our dwindling, forest trees, gather up the Echo once more, Then send it down, to the forest floor; Where our green eyed snake, lies and cries, Hidden from our Black Panther’s frightened eyes. Suddenly the Echo, bounces off our strange square pyramid, Gathering more Beauty, gathering more Peace, Amid the ghosts, where our gentle ancestors, used to roam And who loved the Forest and made it, their happy home.

Now the Echo is given more Colour and Beauty, As it flies, with our painted Parrots, Over our amazing, canopy of trees. Then over the waters, carried by the breeze, Until it’s whipped up again, by the hot desert winds, {Mexico} Blowing away all our fearful and ignorant sins. And in harmony, with our wild bird calls, As it goes ricocheting, through our mighty, Grand Canyon walls; Where our Great White Buffalo, breathes His dying groan, Remembering the longtime days, of fun and freedom, When His tribe, used to play and roam. The Land of Freedom, Dreams and Guns; {United States of America} The land of caring, but fearful dads and mums, Where all the races live together, in peace and strife, Trying hard to find ways to accommodate, all walks of life.

The Echo is now tenderly picked up again, By our red and golden leaves and sent rustling and bustling, Through our beautiful, Canadian, Autumn Trees; Gathering more magic and momentum, as it dances Around and around, our ancient Poles of Totem: Until it’s whirled, by our Nature Spirits, out to sea, Where it’s taken up again, by our Great White Whale; Even though, He’s feeling a little sick, and looking rather pale. But He carries the Echo, to our Land of Frozen Water, Lit up by our Multi-Coloured Sky. And with His tail, He flips the Echo high, Where it’s caught, by the gentle paw, of our Great White Bear; Where She is now facing hunger, as the sea-ice is becoming rare.

But She takes the Echo to the strange and magical, Magnetic White Pole, Where She breathes in Pain and breathes out Compassion, Simply just, to reduce our awful toll; Simply just, to purify our air. Now She places the Echo, inside a small white box And gives it carefully, to our little White Fox, Who carries it safely, over our carpet of snow; So clever and quiet, no one would ever know, Until He reaches, His own special place And with a look of cunning on His face, Gives the Echo, such a large throw, It goes rushing and sliding, down the snowy slopes: Striking the Viking, Fjords and Sounds, {Scandinavia} In harmony with the howl, of our Great White Hounds.

The demon, devil dogs, by Man, they were named, Because, to their freedom they clung, so unashamed. They refused the soft and unnatural, ways of Man. They ran with the Moon and remained untamed; Forever listening, to the Call of the Wild, from above, Their yellow eyes, reflecting the Colour of Her Love. But their long suffering, is now coming to an end, For now, we can only admire, their refusal to bend. Yes, we’re talking about, our Great White Wolf, So sensitive and wild; Mother Nature’s favourite child.

The Echo now feeling, forever wild and free Goes running with the wolves, through the frozen white trees; Blessing our cold and suffering, Country of Strength, {Russia} Where God was punished and pushed aside, In their supreme effort to make, a giant political stride. But the Echo with love, reaches out at arm’s length. And goes on forgiving our ignorant and fearful sins, Until it reaches the coast, where the North Sea begins.

And now, with Her strange, laughing peal, The Echo is picked up again, by our beautiful White Seal And carried through the cold waves and winds, To our strange, green Land of Leprechauns: {Ireland} Where they made a silly mistake, When they kicked out, their harmless little snake; But they are as good as the rest, For Love and Peace has always been, The Little People’s questioning, artistic quest; And our suffering will soon be over, When they find their very special, four leaf clover.

Image of a four-leaf clover by Peter Grünfelder from Pixabay.

Now the Echo, dances with the Fairies, down to the lovely, green Mull, {Scotland} Where it mingles, on the stony, white beach, With the very loud screech, of our Great White Gull; Who flies it, over the little Sea, to our colourful Highlands: The Land of Heather and the very strange lake; The home of our invisible Monster Snake.

Image of heather by Birgit Röhrs from Pixabay.

Now the Words are echoed, by the peal of church bells, As they pass through, the broken Roman Wall And fly, through the Land of Pretty Gardens, {England} In harmony, with our Blackbird’s call: Giving off sparks, as they dance Around and around, our strange and ancient, Ring of Stones; Gathering more Power, gathering more Magic, From the unseen Fairies, Elves and Gnomes; Who send them, singing through the trees, With our little birds and bees And on, to our Terrific, Topsy-Turvy, Toy Town, {London} Where we love to train, our very funny clowns.

Now the Echo, stalling for a moment, Blesses the crowded, Market Halls and then goes, Rocking and Rolling, up to our Musical Roundhouse; Where the ghosts of Rock 'n’ Roll, Love to play, as quietly as a mouse. Then like a Rolling Stone, full of Music, The Echo rushes on; Then leaves the land above And goes rocking, through our grand, Underwater Tunnel, To the Land of Romantic Dance and Love; {France} If they Can Can, then we all Can Can.

Then up the Metal Tower, to gather a bit more Power, Before it flies, over the ploughed fields and through the multi-coloured trees; Blessing as it goes, our generous, wise old Donkeys, Who have worked so hard and so long for us, With very little thanks, but with very little fuss. Now the Echo is caught by the windmills, and blown Through our flat and tolerant, Land of Charm; {Holland} Which protects and means no harm, To our Ancient Herb of love and healing balm.

Image of birch trees by Tapani Hellman from Pixabay.

And don’t forget, if we love our plants, Then they will feed and heal and love us too. So let’s just enjoy, living in our Longtime Zoo. After all, everything we do, is just a little stepping stone, Towards our spirit lands here and through the Ozone. So while we’re here, why not enjoy, our Sky of Blues And create our dreams, in our Garden of Colours; Surrounded by our beautiful, White Trees of Birch, Inside our wonderful and holy Earth Church.

The Echo, now feeling a little happier, Races on, with a happy and a loud ring, To our beautiful, fairy tale castle: {Germany} The dream of a mad king, Where Wagner wove his magic, music wands And entertained the king, riding his wooden, White Swans. Now, having gathered more Music and Beauty, The Echo is flown, by our humble little sparrow, through the gorges And the gaps, in our great, sunny White Alps, so narrow, {Switzerland} It gives the Echo more energy, more sound, As it goes sliding with the snow, down and down, Until it reaches our wistful, lover’s Watertown. {Venice}

The Echo now pauses to smile and dances, With the echo of the message, left by Saint Francis. So far ahead of his time, his memory, forever will shine: For Saint Francis understood, the true meaning of brotherhood. In Assisi, the Earth, the Moon, the Stars and the Sun, Along with the flowers, the trees, the birds, the animals and man, Were all made to feel at home: a family of One. A message so simple, and yet for us, still hard to really understand.

Now our brothers, the birds of Assisi, get very excited and busy, As they fly the Echo, over the lovely land of Italy: Through the church towns and past, the old leaning tower, Where it gathers more Joy, Wisdom and Power, To take it on, to the great Cathedral Dome. {Vatican City} The home, of our sad, hardworking Pope, Dishing out Love and Faith and Hope: And where we made Jesus, our Holy Boss. But we never really, brought Him down, From His torture and His Cross And His poor Mother in the sky, Hasn’t got a tear left to cry. And sad Mary Magdalene, who loved Him so very much, Is still waiting, for His gentle touch.

Image of an olive tree by Thomas G. from Pixabay.

Now the Echo, with a leap over the little sea, Passes through, the Land of the ancient Olive Tree. {Greece} The Land, of the God’s old playground. Where they’ve been sleeping for so long, without a single sound, Because they lost their powers; Because the dream they had, was really only ours. Now blown by the waking God’s yawns, The Echo flies over the mysterious, Mediterranean Sea; Where the Gods, used us like pawns, Playing their wicked little tricks, on you and on me.

Now the Echo flies on, to bless the sunny, Happy lands of Portugal and Spain. Where everyone is so welcome, to holiday and play, But where our brave, little White Bull Still has to suffer unnecessary pain, just to entertain. Then the Echo flies on, to charm and calm our Holy City. Still not yet at peace, which for us, is such a pity. But as the Echo flies by, it blesses our Land of Clever Jews, With their very strange shoes and ancient views: “If they’re the chosen people, Then what about the rest of us?” Said the wise old Turtle. To the pretty worried Porpoise.

The Echo, now takes a camel ride, with a desert nomadic tribe, Who for their own ancient reasons, still wander with the seasons: Moving and meditating in the stillness, underneath the desert stars, With their ever faithful camels, acting as their desert cars; Where the land moves like the ocean, making sandy waves And where the winds hollow out the mountains, making hermit caves. Then the Echo is tossed up gently, by the desert winds And blown through the many different and colourful Lands, Of Allah’s very special, sad and sorry children; Who love Him, so very, very much, But are frightened of Her, lovely Healing Touch.

Image of grass by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay.

Finally, the Echo reaches the beautiful, blue turquoise mosque, {Iran} Where it gathers more knowledge, more wisdom, more trust, Before it goes whirling on, through more desert Lands; {Afghanistan} Stirring up the dust and the ancient music bands. And as it echoes, through the wild Khyber Pass, It dances with the wind and the wild grass. Then the Echo, passes over Allah’s youngest Land, {Pakistan} Blessing the many mosques, all looking so simple, yet so grand. And after singing in harmony, with the Muslim’s morning prayer, The Echo now says goodbye, to the Lands of Islam and the clean, desert air.

Now the Echo is carried, by the common little pigeons, To the strange Land of love and fast and colourful religions. {India} The home of our pure white, Marble Dome, Where Her Love, loves to roam and roam And keep safe, our frightened Tiger’s home. And where the friendly, calm cow and the wicked wild monkeys, Can be found living with the people, within the crowded cities: And where many holy men have seen the light And have led their patient people, through the darkness of their fright. Now the Echo follows the flow, of the holy Ganges River, Blessing the crowds on the banks, praying to Brahma, Vishnu and Shiva, Until it reaches the warm Indian Ocean, Now feeling refreshed, by Her warm Love and undying Devotion.

But soon the Echo is picked up, by our very pretty Porpoise, Who just loves to have a purpose. So She sails it over the sea, with laughter and glee And then, sends it whizzing through the Lands, of the many beautiful, Golden Temples, {Myanmar} Bringing smiles and a splash of pink, to our lovely children’s dimples; The Lands, where the many Golden Buddhas serenely smile, mile after mile, {Thailand} Because they understand, that suffering and joy, Are just the opposite sides, of the same blessed toy, That God gave us, to help us see the Light: To help us live, our eternal, Spiritual Flight.

Image of an ear of rice by zcf428526 from Pixabay.

Now the Echo, tinged with a lovely, golden hue, Rushes on, blessing the busy rice fields and jungles, Down the Malaysian coast and out to the ocean blue; Where it’s carried by the waves and the winds, Until it’s quickly heard again, by our clever Dolphins; Who take it once more and send it, down to the ocean floor: Spreading the good news and cheering up the Blues, In our wonderful underwater world, of Colour, Light and Sound; Still as free as Neptune was, when He was first crowned.

Then the Echo is suddenly flipped up, in the sunny breeze, And carried with ease, to our playful Islands, shining in the sun; {Polynesia} Where the gentle people, lived in peace and care free fun And never really questioned, that together we are one.

Now the Words gather some very strange and beautiful vibrations, Very different, from all the other nations, As they echo over, our lost Continent of Crystal: {Atlantis} Giving up its secret message, both simple and mystical, And where our ancient people loved to play and have their say, Until they strangely faded away and we inherited their day. And as the Echo passes by, their ancient Gods give a wistful sigh, Blowing it across the Seven Seas and through the clouds in the sky; And to the fish, the birds, the animals and the trees, While the Land plays the band.

And the Words, echo echo on and on, from us to us to us, Not forgetting the flowers, with their special beauty and magical powers; And whispered from the trees, to our busy swarms of bees And heard by the ants, busy helping magic plants; And cheered on, by our weird and frightening insect life, Unable to understand, why the sickness they carry, Is the sickness of our strife. And echoed, by our dwindling free herds, still allowed to roam, Giving strength and even more beauty to this, Their very first Aquarian poem.

And our poem too, which has been dedicated to the millions of things, Of beauty, on this sad and joyful journey, we have missed; And for the things of beauty, which we still haven’t kissed: Which we hope we’ll surely pardon, In our weird and wonderful, spinning Space Garden: As we go whizzing and dancing, through our Space And singing and living in rhyme, through our Time, Pleasing each other and our devoted and delighted Divine Grace; Knowing always, that He and She and us are creating and caring, For our crazy and colourful, eccentric Earth race.

Image of cherry blossoms by Valeria from Pixabay.

Now the Echo says goodbye, to the Land beneath the sea And sounding crystal clear, goes dancing with our illusive butterflies, To the Islands, of the pretty, Cherry Blossom Trees: {Japan} Where it’s carried by the butterflies and breeze, Through the gardens of the golden, red and orange Maple leaves; Blessing the clever people, for their exquisite sense of beauty, So simple and pure and inspired from above. And then with laughter in their eyes, and a perfect sense of duty, They signal to the butterflies, to pass the Echo, to our peaceful White Dove.

Image of maple tree leaves by Penny from Pixabay.

Image of saffron flowers by Johan Puisais from Pixabay.

Now the Bird of Peace, flies the Echo, across the waters, To the Land of rice fields and warm saffron hills; {China} Where so many, live and work together in peace, Struggling each day, just to pay their bills: And where our sleepy Magic Dragon, stirs in Her Longtime cave And gives Her long awaited smile, When She hears the Echo, coming over the waves. And as it passes by, She gives it a gentle puff, To speed it on its way; to bless Her ancient people, Who like Her, are wise and gentle, but also very tough. Then She chooses the dragon, who She thinks is the cleverest, To take the Echo, over the Great Wall and on to Mount Everest.

Now in the pure, thin air, the Echo dances around our Great White Peak, Where the ancient temples lie and where Truth and Wisdom, Can be sometimes seen, playing hide and seek. And did we know? Yak yak, yakity yakity, yak yak yak. There is a friendly, wild cow, Who lives in freedom, on the snowy slopes, of Nepal. She loves to play and roam and for her, life is just a ball. And yet, she loves to share her tasty milk, With the gentle people, dressed in silk, Who live with her, inside her happy home. She lives a life of health and ease And has never even heard of, mad-cow disease.

Now the Echo pauses, for it has but one regret; It has come at last, to bless our Holy Land, Tibet: Still waiting gently and patiently, for its freedom, While it shares with us, its truth and love and wisdom. So with a blessing, to our gentle Dalai Lama And a blessing, to Planet Earth’s longtime karma; The Echo passes by, the God’s prayer wheels and chimes, In harmony, with the cold waterfalls, splashing their eternal rhymes And then flies out, over our beautiful, magic healing rainbow And far far far far, out into Space And far far far, out into Time, To the Magical World Of Ooo And beyond.

And this is our present. This is our amazing Grace. Ommmmmmm present. We’re’re’re’re’re’re’re present. For as we know; God is omnipresent And now we know; We are Omwe'represent. And together, we are one, Here and now: And with that, our Phantom, He takes a little bow.

And in a flash, He disappears; Leaving nothing, but our own tears. And now we can’t find Him, anywhere at all. He lives in our, Jewelled Rainbow Caves, Behind our ancient, healing rainbow waterfall, With His lovely Lady Vulcan, wrapped in pink; Both pushing Beauty, to the brink.

Image of a rose by …♡… from Pixabay.

And now, as our stardust slowly settles, Upon our beautiful, pink rose petals; We could think, that maybe “We’re” the second coming, For at times God can be clever and quite cunning. And poor Jesus, could do with a very long rest, After all for two thousand years, He’s done His very best. Isn’t it about time, we got off our knees and took up the quest. And though we know, it’s hard to let go our favourite Son; Isn’t it something we must do, to show Him, His Love has won. And deep down we know really, that His work has been done; For we all suffered, to show us, we are but one.

So now that we have the “We’re with all” We can let go our fears and sing: “We’re off to see our witches, Our wonderful witches of Ooo, Because, because, because, because Of the wonderful things we do.”

The Beginning.

“Gee whizz, I really enjoyed that,” cried Blue, “But yipes! I think Om in big trouble.” “But We’re going to be just fine,” laughed Rose “Don’t worry - be happy, We’re going to really shine.” And holding hands, they skipped up the rainbow, singing “Here we go Indigo. Here we go Indigo.” And together, they were one. And together, they were Indigo.

And they disappeared, into the darkening, evening sky, With Father Sun setting pink and Mother Moon rising high; A family of Light, with the Baby Stars all aglow. They disappeared, into the colour of “We’re” - wise Indigo.

From us to us.

This little story was brought to us by, The tree, the bird and the animal spirits, With help from some human spirits, And inspiration from the Angel of Hope, the Angel of Rhyme And the Angel of Aquarius - the Angel of Us.

This story was first penned in 1996. 1996 = 1 + 9 + 9 + 6 = 25 = 2 + 5 = 7 All happy creatures are in Heaven, And even the unhappy ones will eventually get there; When they give up their doubt and let go their despair.

Penned by PEL, a friendly we're wolf.

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