
Full review HERE
Full review HERE
What of her in these times of destruction and division? She is angry and she is hungry. Furious at humanity and hungry for punishment and resolution.
The forest is on fire and the walls around her dwelling, which is now a fortress, are higher than they’ve ever been before.
The horsemen are dressed in black. Their armour heavy in readiness for destruction of its own kind – complete elimination of nature and all that is human. They are ready to carry out her will.
She’s furious and in mourning for humanity that is no longer… yet there’s an opening, a small one, a loose panel in her fortress wall for those, who are still aware of their soul; that element that remains unaffected, pure and unchanged. Hope it is not, but a connection to what they are from the root. She thinks of those, who have some memory of where to go to become whole again. However faint the memory is by now, it is still there and she smells it.
I feel small and insignificant in the face of all reality and such is my preference during these years. Resignation and tiredness are part of my day-to-day and only participation in watching it all burn remains. Hopeless anguish. Despite it all I wait for the time to rise again when the voice can be heard from the depth of the forest summoning the brave and crooked; open anew to learning; in eternal love for what remains of nature external and within. Even if only one tiny flower can be saved, it will be worth doing. If only one soul can be awakened, it will be worth the work and hardship. As one wise human said: ‘For as long as there is birdsong, we must listen.’
And for now, we scream, we rage and we sob until the sky above is cloudless once again and there’s renewed stillness in the heart.
Do not yearn for eternal summer
For it will burn your heart empty
When seeking to maintain its peak.
Much stronger is the fire internal
witnessed during the darker days.
As the Earth cycles
So are we.
Nothing stops and nothing stays the same
The rise and fall of life is necessary
For the variety is a tool of awareness.
Decay is transformation just as blooming is.
Without rest in death
There’s no seedling or reaching for the open.
There’s no lessons learnt in expectation of what might be.
There’s no mystery if dwelling in one place and same.
We must go places uncomfortable, dark, cold.
Do not yearn for eternal summer,
As winter is full of shine just as much.
A different kind, mute and murky
Dark but rich
Quiet yet wise.
Immerse in the darkness of each year with surrender
For the only way forward is through.
The darkest night, oh how rich and comforting your gifts
Like the darkest depth of the earth it contains our sorrows and joys
Care taking all potential
It keeps it, churns it and later
We emerge as new towards the light
We stretch into the sun seeking transformation
~RawNatureSpirit~
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