Her gardner’s hands

Time may pick her locks

moths eat her frocks

and her splendid looks may fade

but she will still hold my heart

like the spark of her voice

hangs like an echo in the Everglades

in Elysium fields her flowers grow

Only the roses know

the gardeners hands

we nurture the voice we want to hear

even if it is the one we fear

we grow all of what we know

I loved her so

but I was fearful of losing

the ghost of her out of my head.

For if I lose her voices dulcet tone

I will be truly left alone…

Authors of the great myth

Given the gift

of sight

we fight and wrestle

nestling

in escapism

but it’s a prison.

she is out there

Sophia the goddess of wisdom

she spoke to me when I was 7

now I am nearly 37

I hear her voice

like yin and yang

Speaking her words to me

Am I just hearing things?

Is my mind just broken and in a sling?

Or am I just another author with a gift?

Eyes of the eternal

Real tears shed
Eyes of the eternal
Can see the dead
not long gone
Just out of sight.

Like the bird that takes flight
into the white room
with white robes
I looked for you and I froze
I saw you with my undying eyes
you are not gone you can’t die

You live on in my mind
and in a different dimension
of the goddess’s mind.

What is more powerful than a mother’s love

They will bow to your beauty
But they will miss your brilliance
They will worship your curves
But they will curse others
to see only that which they say is skin deep.
You will weep for your wisdom
The fire in your heart
In your veins
It pains me to see you hidden or vilified
Within his story
You are doomed to be perceived as second fiddle
But you gave birth to this universe and you are the riddle
Sophia wisdom is knowledge and power
it is sour milk to men
and when they drink it they cry
For women make this universe
and men who hurt you die
But you hold my cards
and power
and the watcher I have become sits and waits
Watching you hour by hour
Love and wisdom flow
from streams which flow underground
But women who are powerful
Must know that they can change the flow
and sound out
for what is more powerful than a mothers love?

The light ahead

The light ahead

Talking about a revolution
Will sound like a whisper uttered by children
In the wilderness
in the deep winter we keep hold of our history
thinking about it to keep us warm
From the chill winter storms
that beat down outside.

The light is in us
the spark of own divine creation
we are the children of the story
We create our fate
fashion our chances
Life pulses like the lightbulb
Don’t hide what you have

She waits in the palace
Star lit loves always finds a way
Clairvoyant hearts and souls
For the goddess wait
Wisdom is her name
She knows your own
from the dawn of your existence.