Love clock

New beginnings are emerging.

Tender and vigorous green sprouts of collective hopes

rapidly growing

in the hearts and primal minds of

the children and the seasoned ones.

 

Desire for

what is real.

Yearning for

sustainability, for real solutions instead of Band-Aids.

 

Longing for heart connections, for sharings

beyond

how are you.

 

Fear, yet also hope

of being

truly seen

by those you love

and who love

back at you.

 

We have been sleeping

so long,

lost

and distracted.

 

We have wandered far

from our one, true path.

desert sky

We have forgotten

that we share

the same

crystal water,

golden air,

blue-green pebbles under our shoes.

 

There is no away

for the rubbish, the toxic waste,

the plastic tchotchke that looked cute at the Fair.

There is no where to hide it,

to store it safely.

 

 

There is no later,

only now.

 

Our sleeping has deepened

into ceremonial dreaming.

 

A deep yearning is rising

for shared vulnerability,

for caring, gentle-honesty

for compassion in action.

 

The dreaming into being

has begun,

breaking through the cave wall

in a roar of water

filling the void and the

deep, dark, womb-like pool below.

 

Nothing and everything

all at once.

 

The waking brings questions.

What now?

Too far gone?

Who am I?

Who’s with me?

Am I crazy?

Is Love enough?

 

Yes!

comes the answer.

First a whisper,

then

a roar.

begininning clocks

YOU are the essential piece of the puzzle.

Find your interlocking sisters and brothers.

The journey is the searching.

The searching is the journey.

 

Remember who you are.

Remember the questions.

 

Share your

Now answers

knowing they will change

and flow into

new beliefs,

 

Be vulnerable anyway.

 

We are unfolding,

shedding busy,

finding perfect timing

beyond

the ticking of the old red clock

whose linear measurements have become

charmingly antiquated.

 

It is time for a new way,

brought forward from ancient places,

beyond time and space.

this whisper

It is time to begin again.

 

© Cheryl Schirillo 2014