Tender Gardeners

the garden growing and gifted giving and great means and great words and great works of art are the spoils of a life once lived and a life yet to live and love being discovered.

love being discovered is a merging path of exploration of self and selflessness and the surety of knowing that this was the creation of something extraordinary and the garden of love is in our hands, yet to be tended, still to be tended and tender is the hands of these gardeners.

these gardeners awaiting no more, exploration has begun and the nature of once been and once then and once again and once over is at the very core of all that is and can be.

and this can be endless.  and this too shall be endless.  and this will be endless. and this has always been written as such.

and so the rain clouds will part, and the sun will do her part, and the moon will shed no more tears, for the stars have opened the heavens and the heavens are within the grasp of the tender gardeners who have planted their garden of for always.

Set Sail

see something perfect; be something more,

see something special; touch and adore.

see something precious; take not for granted,

see the angelic; feel love in the emphatic.

two hearts colliding; two worlds as one, two dreaming travellers

two, as one.

as always and now, and once and again, as then as for sure, and begin once therein.

within the framework of that which i see; the beauty, the meaning, the freedom to be.

be all that is possible and all can be imagined

be something irrereverent; envision and be beckoned

to the call of your heart, to the call of your soul, to the call of your mind

your fortune, foretold.

a destiny dreamed and dreamed of well.

of something near perfect

for always; set sail.

Sunday Morning Musings

dreaming dreamers and dreamt of places and places of the heart

heartfelt singing and dancing stars and stars that rain down showers of love

loving this moment and living this moment and moment by moment grace

grace of the mystery and mystery of the majestic and the majestic power of the sublime.

catch a falling star and catch the wind at the top of your treetops and stand upon the precipice of time.

time is now and time again and again the time tells of possibility.

possible is that which is yet to be conjured by the imagination that runs wild in the minds who are alike.

in this possibility there is a dance to be danced, a dream to be dreamed, a love to be loved, a life to be lived…

and the journey is for always.