Here for a Moment

PHOTO: Empathic energy released - A guardian angel lifts her hand to her face and manifests the universal light within, sending waves of healing energy to you by empathic thought. ~ May all your troubles fall away to the loving essence of peace.

Here for a Moment

I heard a ballad by a friend, 

his music pleased my mind, 

melodic lyrics gathered me, 

for wisdom I did find. 

I saw a picture of the light, 

bright colors danced the skies, 

excitement mirrored in its shine, 

engaged my soulful eyes. 

I met someone, a sentient being, 

through eyes our souls connected, 

her essence spoke to me in thoughts, 

delivery twice perfected. 

CHORUS 

It doesn’t matter what you believe, 

just as long as your heart is true, 

we’re only here for a moment, 

to express our point of view. 

I saw a film that showed the stars, 

such beauty through and through, 

with skies so vast my heart sang out, 

for in it, there was you. 

I read a book the other day, 

its paintings splashed my mind, 

with glowing creativity, 

a classic I did find. 

CHORUS 

It doesn’t matter what you believe, 

just as long as your heart is true, 

we’re only here for a moment, 

to express our point of view. 

A stranger sent a thank you note, 

that filled my thoughts with hope, 

one good deed becomes another, 

so pleased in what she wrote. 

Life has been an education, 

in the end I know I’m free, 

time well spent among the living, 

many wonders still to see. 

CHORUS 

It doesn’t matter what you believe, 

just as long as your heart is true, 

we’re only here for a moment, 

to express our point of view. 

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Inspired by the music of Michael on Fire

Michael on Fire Artist Profile

Good Souls Gather

The quest to find like-minded people who are honest, empathic and care about changing the World for the better is what interests me…I’m driven and attracted to others that share a dream of a better World.

“Good Souls Gather” is a poem / song that reflects inner strength and intuitive knowledge of our connection to a greater spirit and to each other.

Good Souls Gather

There’s a guardian in my mind, that holds a map and key,

to a road that I must find, to the path that sets me free.

Here inside my sanctum, the World cries out in pain,

the suffering is unbearable, its establishment so insane.

My sorrow cries for justice, but falls on empty ears,

still I push on faithfully, despite my mounting years.

There’s a subtle voice within,

that whispers to my soul,

providing strength and guidance,

that makes my spirit whole.

Good souls are gathering, I feel it in the air,

the time of healing calls me, it beckons to all who care.

In visions the worlds on fire, demanding full attention,

its plagued with pain and suffering, by wars of intervention.

Blind reality, planned illusions, the world is filled with sin,

casting its confusion, but the truth remains within.

There’s a subtle voice within,

that whispers to my soul,

providing strength and guidance,

that makes my spirit whole.

I close my eyes to feel them, and know that that they feel me,

in the aura of emotion, they comfort and help me see.

Good souls are gathering, building for what’s to come,

lifting empathy’s fire, one heart our beating drum.

Visions remain truthful, despite the worldly weight,

our hearts and souls united, regardless of our fate.

There’s a subtle voice within,

that whispers to my soul,

providing strength and guidance,

that makes my spirit whole.

There’s a guardian in my mind, that holds a map and key,

to a road that I have found, to the path that sets me free.

The Minstrel

The Minstrel

Nestled close to Ironwood forest,

illuminated by candle light,

the Puffin Inn was warm but dreary,

on the coldest and darkest of nights.

Howling winds put a nip in the air,

hearth fires from the Inn could be seen,

while the snows of the north were blowing,

the wendigo played in between.

Suddenly then, at the tavern door,

a dark shadow came into the light,

his winter cloths spoke of his lore,

as he requested a room for the night.

The stranger drew all eyes attention,

as they followed him across the room,

he made for the furthest most table,

away from the murmuring gloom.

With sobering Calm and Caburus smile,

the bard threw off his lute and cloak,

the candle flickered at his table,

as he motioned for drink and smoke.

He sat down there on a wooden stool,

a tobacco pipe in his left hand,

the maid approached with jug of ale,

crop of leaf from a box on the stand.

“Will you sing us some of your tales,

and tell us of your travel’s good sir,

we’ll gladly pay for all of your time,

and the food is whatever preferred.”

The Minstrel looked up, then smiled back,

through the smoke and embers of his pipe,

he then swung his lute across his chest,

and gave the old frets a wipe.

Silver coins appeared in front of him,

as townsfolk gathered at his table,

for tonight they’d hear a few stories,

a little news if he was able.

He put the coins in a leather pouch,

nodded and began strumming a tune,

a hush was heard, the Inn fell quiet,

save his lute in an attentive room.

“Have you ever heard, the tyrant king,

the tax collector of lower land?

the famine, the food, the missing coins,

and their punishment for sleight of hand?”

The excitement built around the room,

as the bard described the ancient king,

his words flowed true and rhythmically,

and with a smile, he began to sing.

“A town rebellion was in the air,

from the heavy burden on them all,

when the people rose, and spoke as one,

their sly king and guard did fall.”

“For who could claim to be so thoughtless,

of the domination one does hold,

and you must be ever attentive,

to those you entrusted with your gold.”

The tavern burst out in merriment,

very happy with the traveler’s song,

their faces brimming acknowledgement,

all agreeing that the king was wrong.

Of news and runes of fallen empires,

wild songs of laughter unfold,

he played well into the early hours,

until all of his songs were retold.

For five long nights, he stayed at the Inn,

but now it was time to go,

he packed up his things, gathered his gifts,

and slung his fine lute in tow.

“I’m much obliged for your service sir,

with smiling nod, the innkeeper said,

they were the best nights we’ve ever had,

there’ll be no charge for the room and bed.”

The Minstrel smiled and nodded his head,

tipped his hat in reply to his host,

he then made his way outside the Inn,

where the wind swept away with his ghost.

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*Notes:

Caburus (Gaius Valerius Caburus) was the leader of the “Helvii” who were a small Celtic polity west of the Rhône river on the northern border of Gallia Narbonensis.

The Wendigo is a mythological creature or evil spirit which originates from the folklore of First Nations based in and around the East Coast forests of Canada.

The Minstrel (Bard) in this poem is “Wisakedjak” (Wee-sa-ked-jak) a Native American Spirit who is usually portrayed as a staunch friend of humankind, and never has a dangerous or destructive being.

Also: The Minstrel was a medieval musician who traveled across Europe performing story filled songs and tales that often brought news from distant places. People of the town would gather at an Inn where the Minstrel stayed and would take care of his stay in exchange for his craft. In the days before the printing press, they would often relay news from parts of the world that they traveled, and of course it was to the enthusiasm of many an ear…