To: K-list
Recieved: 2001/05/02 08:46
Subject: [K-list] Spellbound by The Wisdom of the Tree
From: Cleocatras
On 2001/05/02 08:46, Cleocatras posted thus to the K-list:
Someone recently wrote me privately that had not seen my previous writing
posted to the list since their arrival was subsequent to this, she had liked
the significance of my story about the time the brown snake came strolling up
to the front entrance of my house in broad daylight... so I was cruising
around the archives today and decided it was worth reposting...
Blessings, everyone...
The Wisdom of the Trees
The compelling presence of this Grand Old Tree,
Great Oak, she was, and so surely summoning me,
so I entranced myself into her arms
and opened my deepest self to her energy...
She said:
I am on a high limb - Looking as far as my mind can see -
grieving adulterated horizons, evidence of so many
empty ones,
How many even think it worthy to climb the tree
and listen to the leaves?
they whisper, whisper...,
"So many lost and wandering through,
so many taken and destructive,
so few trying to preserve the truth... "
(leaves asking),
"Who could favor hope for life
if one can't hear The Voice of trees?"
"Spiritual" approaching extinction...
Where are the Indians?
We need to hear *their* ways
and listen to *their* hearts -- to save
the Wisdom of The Trees."
I see the horizon -- greed's badges litter it.
The trees -- their voices, long buried --
murdered by leaders' media clips,
telephone-poled by those butchers!
The crickets chant us every night,
we aren't listening, we are
"sleeping, sleeping...sleeping"...
As the leaves whisper solemn truths
and wisps of air send it tickling to our ears,
hearts are deaf, as, we *still* don't listen,
"shallow...shallow...shallow..." the crickets chant.
Yes, we only bought the nothingness,
and our empty numbers come --
upon each of all the continents,
tearing up the Trees of Truth,
gouging the soil, following empty ones.
Mutilating those Roots of Wisdom
a scrape on our Mother Earth... infesting that way,
while the purest hearts just turned to dust,
a holocaust of our children's days.
It was the denigration of our future families,
past-on, *"Deceased"*...
Humankind's offspring
now raised as Victim or Violator,
turning on itself like cancer -- but media worthy....
Tomorrow's sun, soon raped of innocence
bellows out acid violet,
the deadly deceit of dysfunction,
tainting our hearts such that no more weep...
Treelessly helpless tomorrow's,
the Earth shuddering in Her scars,
the wind poisoned and coughing,
dancing no more through the
compelling whisper of the leaves...
No roots of nurturing,
nor branches of heritage,
with severed limbs died fruitful promise,
and the steadfast trunks of faith...
"All gone, all gone... all gone...,"
The Last Cricket shrivels in the dust.
Vanished, into selfish nothingness.
Lost in a twist of dust,
sucked violently from the barren scape,
going, going... perhaps forever...
Quenching clouds no longer
ride upon the wisdom of those treetops.
A tree, its seed,
or the fall of a leaf,
most cant comprehend --
so insignificant to shallow hearts,
Like most things close to Yhvh.
To many, the tiny seed of hope
blows far away, too far, and
abandons life into the wind...
Heed the significance of Tree kind!
or know the Omen of: The End.
While writing (this) under that stretching branch
which guards my thoughtful home,
Divinity sends that big brown snake
slithered blatantly out from my trance.
As real as he could be, and boldly close to me
set his path in such determined way
to the threshold under my tree.
In a daze I blink and shudder,
watching him swipe against the stone
The black slate, which forms my front doorstep,
shed his skin upon my home.
Shaken and amazed at Her Synchronicity,
I bore my face toward Goddess, to the sky,
Her quick wink in jest, salutation to me:
as a great big glistening leafdrop
crashed square into my eye --
a direct hit into my Vision of Her.
In so much shock, frozen shivering there,
the Revelation and the Secret Vision..
from those profoundly whispering leaves
it came, that proof of the spiritual realm...
Hearing voices of treetop angels,
spellbound in the Magic of The Trees,
the Snake now living in the shade of my Oak,
and I finally understand the Vision and Voice
the profound sound of Her wind in Her leaves.
An actual and vision experience in 1996
Written draft Jan, 1998, finished today...
Cleocatra
http://www.kundalini-gateway.org
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