The imaginary garden existing within has many questions. Through weaving of moments new peculiarities arrive in a great ship to a harbor of the mind. White feathered creatures who visit, stay with invitation to haunt the interior with curiosity. We have created a bethel for her to stay, a womb to hold the provocative waves of umbilical discord between heart and thought. Much of the unknown will remain with no comprehension of reason during this incarnation of soul. Yet in this wellspring there has been a victorious discovery found in the Fae. Many of the contradictions have softened and some melted into rivers of  instinctive life force. Not within the world of intellect but with the emotion behind memory. When imagining the impossible, the otherworldly, I recollect the essence of matter and exist within the mystical. That which rests beyond the visible and within our ecosystems.

The outer world is of service as a thread of silk into the realm of spirit. Experiencing the subtle symphonies interwoven from the microscopic to the macrocosmos. Summoning to gaze at a flower, animal, mineral, the florescent mold on a perishing mustard seed, the soft cry of a child, the wounds of hearts seeking mending. Their images soon dissolve into a collision of inexpressible inward landscapes, through the vibration of earth, of sound. “In the beginning was the word, and the word was with god, and the word was god.”

We are back at sea and the churning waves are touching the mother, the circle of flowers. This is a voyage of infinite spirals into the evolution of paradoxical truth. I choose to become a witness of the tension between heaven, earth and underworld. Dancing with  the divine cyclical rhythm through the mother, the father and so below. The tales and images received through this unfolding fluidity belong to the people of the world. They are heritage from that which came before me, standing in the eternal presence. Restless faith and prayer will ferment through this erotic field of desire and will for union.

Alexa