OUR NEW WORLD Perhaps, we truly are free, dreaming this spell — trauma born and bruised — weeping our grief that we are weeping our grief on a sea of laughter, until we too remember that we know just how to sing it: to put that mythical fish skin over our feet and stumble along, dance along, daring to dream and wear flowers, for the sake of flowers, for the sake of sad old women, just to bring a touch of joy, and that beauty that wakes us up, kissing us with a silent Light in the gray. The world is opening like a woman melting into her most astonishing beauty. It is a secret work now, undergirding the collapse as the old, worn out way dies. It is green-growing beneath concrete, a weaving of the fabric of Love as Life — and Life as a creative happening, ever increasing its freedom and beauty. A world for children and artists… our world… our new world. Blake Steele
Posted on: Thu, 11 Jul 2013 08:04:44 +0000
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