Although the egoic mind points the blame. Perilous times shall come. All the world’s afraid, hurt cannot be transformed. So let the wound lie open, let the winds blow on the wound, sprinkle a savor’s salt on the wound, let the wound lie open. Our days are numbered and our days are short. Love cannot be stopped. Hurt cannot be transformed, so let the wound lie open, let the children rise.
Love is born willing and tender. Love has no color it can only be felt- like the cardinal bird whispering on the fence of my destiny -all things are possible,
Love is a revolution: ever flowing towards – out of solidarity to those seeking refugee, out of a thousand times of rested light – out darkness, love is born over and over. I feel it- sparkling and shimmering, even when the county is mourning- love helps us cry. Love helps us to feel. I honor love – Love is a Revolution. VisionarieKindness all rights reserved 2015
A Poet's Vision 