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Who are the 99%? All of us who were told that if we worked
hard and saved money Occupy
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The
New Sun
In the morning, just before sunrise and only
for a few moments,
peculiar silence and stillness fill the air with wonder.
During these magic moments all secrets are whispered and truth is
revealed.
This is the time when morning dew grows and the
flight of angels can be traced in the clear sky.
Quietly, the first ray stretches up like the hand of a baby,
who tries to stand up for the first time,
holding on to the horizon like to a rim of his cradle.
The edge of the coral disc touches the sky
and the sky bursts with celestial music of joy;
birds and all nature sing glory to the newborn God.
Sun, Surya, Yarilo , you give life and cast light into darkness.
A glorious youth, who, by the afternoon will become a powerful king
of heavens,
riding across the sky with blazing fire in his hair,
who will die in the evening as glorious as he was born.
His day reflects the course of a human life that will inevitably end.
I love the morning sun.
I stay in front of him, naked.
He touches my forehead carefully, studying me as he grows older.
He touches my chest
my stomach
my thighs
and suddenly,
embraces me all, taking my breath away,
penetrating me with warmth, tinting my body with gold.
He smiles at me, I look deep into his eyes.
We kiss.
I watch him traveling up and away.
This day I am safe under guard of the sun, who knows me.
Tomorrow there will be another Sun!
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Lost
in the Forest
by Pablo Neruda
Lost
in the forest, I broke off a dark twig
and lifted its whisper to my thirsty lips:
maybe it was the voice of the rain crying,
a cracked bell, or a torn heart.
Something from far off it seemed
deep and secret to me, hidden by the earth,
a shout muffled by huge autumns,
by the moist half-open darkness of the leaves.
Wakening from the dreaming forest there,
the hazel-sprig
sang under my tongue, its drifting fragrance
climbed up through my conscious mind
as if suddenly the roots I had left behind
cried out to me, the land I had lost with my childhood---
and I stopped, wounded by the wandering scent.
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I sincerely hope you enjoy your visit at
60s & Further.
Om Shanti, Shanti Om
LionHeart
October 2010
Under Arizona Skies
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