Souls,whispering

words carried on the wind,
Voices

with words that touch my being.
Whispering of Yesterdays

passed from view.
Of opportunities missed,

and of regrets a few.
Whispering of Today,

the Journey's I make.
Of choices;

the path's I might take.
Whispering of Tomorrows ,

That May Never Come.
Of Tides and Oceans

of Winds and Sun.
Whispering to me of truths

I seek. . .
Giving insight

that seem to disappear

all to fast
With my eye's and heart's

first glance.
Whispering Words

I cannot quite hear,
whispering knowledge

from the past.
Travelling to me

across time and space,
Leaving me with feelings
I can hardly understand or address.
Making sweet promises

of comfort and success.
They talk of love

and of faith and empty despair
Of hope and joy,

and life filled with care.
Sometimes strong and angry,

sometimes soft and coy.
Spirits whisper's in the night ,

Trying to answer
my Truth seeking soul's plight.
By M. Orlove Sept. 26th. 1996

The life of the Lonely flower.
In the springtime I awoke...

as the morning dawned
it was a strange and sudden awakening.

forced abruptly
from my solid protection I emerged.

As a tender shoot,
I found myself vulnerable, yet curious.
Yet, despite my fears, I grew.
I have only vague memories

of my life before
of a world which was dark yet safe.
but now I found myself clawing,,

sucking life and stretching,
seeking freedom

from the darkness and its encasement.
As I neared the light,

I sensed my home yet feared
what I was to see there.

Seeing no options,
I burst forth, and suddenly knew.
Oh to state the beauty,

the magnificence of the light,
the colors of the rainbow

and the softness of the dew
the morning freshly awakening

and the nightly peace

and communion.
ahh my soul is so rich,
and all is given

without consideration
there is no price,,

and no obligation.
I grew tall, became strong

and my flower blossomed.
Then a day came,

when the wonder of

my soul changed direction,,
and I saw a mystery

And the mystery grew with me,
as a new life. so bittersweet it is,
that which I now held

in my uplifted cup

pointed to heaven,
and fed by heaven My cup,,

someone come,

and drink from my cup.
It is too heavy,,

and the sweetness so fine.

I can not hold it,

yet neither can it be wasted.
I am intoxicated,

yet lonely, so full yet so empty
Ah sweet butterfly,,

come near and taste my nectar
and share with me the moment.

In it can you see paradise

as I see it?
Can you sense its vastness,

its warm embrace?.
Do you see the goodness,

the peace?

can you feel my heartbeat?
Oh please stay......please......
ah good-bye then,

another day perhaps.
One drop of my essence expended,,

and seven drops to take its place.
My cup. . .my overflowing cup.

I am lonely.
Now I am dying,,

and my beautiful blossom has begun to droop
and I am powerless to hold the perfume

much longer.
at last it spills, to the ground and I cry.

in utter dispair I wail....!!
alas my soul.......

I am poured out and wasted.
for what did I hold so long

in my cup?...

the fragrance of life?
and why did I hold it

with all of my strength?

for this moment? to be spilled

when my strength failed me?
And I awoke and found myself in a new place..

and the air was fragrant

with the perfume of many flowers.
And I looked and I knew,

it was for this I had waited.
And I saw my God in the shining light

and He smiled at me.
and my soul knew it was home,

and no longer alone.

By Carol Wulf Copywrite - 1997

The Seed.
The seed I held up

to the light

and tried to look inside
I saw but naught

and this is right

to you I do confide .
The seed must die

and suffer death
to choose the road to life
and in this offering,

consume breath
till ends,

this stage of strife.
A simple act of faith

it be ,

not holding on too tight ,
a joyful giving up you see

to gain eternal light .
Into the earth

we plant our soul

and into innocence

we go,
its not a deep dark scary hole

but a womb

where we can grow
Trust the gardener

knows the way

a little seed might

flourish,
a little light shines

every day,
for souls,

he loves to nourish.
And for our part,

what we do give is

love enough to smile

an expanding heart
with which

to live and climb

that extra mile
For our fellow man

and God above,

the answer for all,,,,

is simply
love.
By Carol Wulf Copywrite-1997

I Want To Know
It doesn't interest me

what you do for a living.
I want to know

what you ache for,
and if you dare to dream

of meeting your lifes longing.
It doesn't interest me

how old you are.
I want to know

if you will risk

looking like a fool for love,
for your dreams,

for the adventure

of being alive.
It doesn't interest me

what planets

are squaring your moon.
I want to know

if you have touched

the center of your own sorrow,
if you have been opened

by lifes betrayals
or have been shriveled

and closed from fear

of further pain.
I want to know

if you can sit with pain,

mine or your own,
without moving to hide it

or fade it

or fix it.
I want to know

if you can be with joy,

mine or your own,
if you can

dance with wildness

and let the ecstacy fill you

to the tips of your fingers

and toes
without cautioning us

to be careful,

be realistic,

or to remember

the limitations

of being human.
It doesn't interest me

if the story you're telling me is true.
I want to know

if you can disappoint another

to be true to yourself,
if you can bear

the accusation of betrayal

and not betray you own soul.
I want to know

if you can be faithful

and therefore be trustworthy.
I want to know

if you can see beauty

even when it is

not pretty everyday,
and if you can source your life

from God's presence.
I want to know

if you can live with the failure,

yours or mine,
and still stand on the edge

of a lake and shout

to the silver of the full moon,

"Yes"!
It doesn't interest me

to know where you live

or how much money you have.
I want to know

if you can get up after the night

of grief and despair,
weary and bruised to the bone,

and do what needs to be done

for the children.
It doesn't interest me

who you are,

how you came to be here.
I want to know

if you will stand

in the center

of the fire with me

and not shrink back.
It doesn't interest interest me

where or what or with whom

you have studied.
I want to know what sustains you

from the inside

when all else falls away.
I want to know

if you can be alone

with yourself,

and if you truly like the company

you keep in the

empty moments.

by Oriah Mountain Dreamer (an Indian Elder)

This writing to me says all I would say when meeting a person

it is all I consider important

the stuff a real hero is made up of.

Reading this makes me wish very hard

to meet the person who wrote it. It well may be, my favorite. I took the liberity of putting the title as it did not come to me with one.
 

Oh Jeanette Thank you so very very much!!

This was just what this page needed.

You are so gifted and so loving to do this for me

in the middle of a move and a computer crash .

God is so good to me in having let me met friends

Just Like You.

ALL GRAPHICS ARE COPYWRITED BY JEANETTE CRAWFORD

Background and Lines and Title were created expressly for Dreamweavers by

Jeanette Crawford