Terrorists - Compassion Reaching Out
(Beginning of Day Three)

A throne arises out of oceanic depth, and a hush
is heard to ring around this world - too long made
loud by will and want of human will alone.
For the spirit of the earth has come to show herself
as real at last; and thus to judge the actions that her
children chose and choose to take these days. (Please
note, there is no ever-living smile upon her face -
not in this time and place.)

She seeks not counsel from their gods on high,
for ever has she been the heart of every living
creature born of vast imagining; and all the
love e'er grown out of the depth of all the deep
of the unknown that she still holds unto herself
in mystery. Dolphins sing and dance a loving
incantation, gathering around her throne divine.

Seismic power lies just there, at her command;
Poseidon patiently awaiting any nuance of her
wish. A trembling, a quake is felt to build
in slow grown generations of her ever-living
will to love and life that ever blooms itself -
held within the essence of her beauty's
opening. Clouds are gathering, and too,
a coolness, almost chill, within the air.

A thoughtful look of contemplation
lies upon her perfect face. For eons,
she has paced the silent corridors,
just considering it all. She'd felt the rise
and fall of many nations; and tasted
all the blood that ran too many battles
through their acts of war. Is that a tear
upon her cheek - or could it be a rainbow
opening out within the indigo of night?

Silently, she rose then, to a height of clouds
where angels always come to sing and play.
It was as if an offering of grace were being
made to fly throughout the living skies we live
and breathe. She opened up her arms - and
then began the flow of all the greatest love
their human world would ever come to know,
in truth and testimony of her ever-beating heart -
times ten, and then a hundred-fold increased.
Then she noticed all the many minds that
closed themselves to even this,
as they had trained themselves to do so well
for all too long - no matter that she
wished to heal them all.

Then a high-pitched tone was heard to sing
its way directly through all mind (the feel and each
sensation of these cells that we must live); as an air
of silence hung itself suspended, o'er the world.
It sang itself from up on high, down to the
lowliest of all, enlightening in ways that most
had never come to feel before (such an ever
gentle grace of love - expanding...). A blast of
wind came howling then, shrieking like a
disembodied soul - the only word it screamed
was simply "No!" and then the silence of a pause
was heard to echo in the place where it had been.

And so the echo dwells, within the words
of those who try so hard to tell its tale; in
this twilit zone, that lives itself within
the borders and the zones of all we used
to think we knew as sanity...

? Michaelette ?

Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home...