I feel like healing is coming. I hope this marks the beginning of the end of a very painful time in our history.
— Sandra Lindsay
The collection of affable in the glowing sky, portraits of our existence,
simply lake’s stillness reflected upon the brilliant ponds,
healing begins to spread the allotment of inspection in our historic wounds,
time allocated to history’s approach heals the profusion of neglect that,
one existed, failed to replace the shattered portions of our brick hearts.
Gathering our portions of bread, we huddle around campfires of neglect,
waiting, hoping that the essentials of an afterlife will provide the nest of refraction,
holy hope brings with it at one salvation and perfection,
in believing that the ugly times are truly, indeed, over.
Therefore, if one must collect bad news and revolve around the spectacle,
one would hope that the excellence achieved in tribulations shall pervade,
well after the intrusion is gone.
Balance is sought after regarding the iota of truth residing inside pentacles,
how is it that you believed that a crisis shall be of fortitude,
small actions make one believe that humanity is possible,
action is the key to the energy cycle of the earth and beyond,
movement is the all encompassing Universe that speaks to our unfolding,
speaketh our names and we will come to pass, yours is what remains to keep
after spoiling herself in richest of warm waters, rose petals and amber,
reaching for the stars once the darkness is over.