Crop Circles of the
Mind
The swirl of the winds of change Swoop mystical patterns in the corn fields of my third eye
The orbs alight, flicker in and out of understanding
Lifting hope to rejoice in this mother earth love from way yonder
The communication clear and old in precious ancient-new code
Calmness descends as my mind accepts an inner note to vote
The visitors know what I do not yet graspThe beauty of life astonishing in its freedom gift so vast
No comments:
Post a Comment