All is Change

Category: Recycled Visions

Journal: Songbird

Date: 10-26-10

All is Change

by Felina Lune Kavi

All is change.

Welcome, winds!

And yet another story begins.

Time is wise.

Let it be!

Here-now, set your watch to FREE.

Be your dream.

Open eyes!

Read yourself between the lies.

This is love.

Soul of thought!

We are one, though we forgot.

Keep the change.

Truth be told!

We are breaking from the mold.

Find your voice.

Sing your heart!

Know that we are living art.

-->YOU ARE HERE<--

Category: Soul-of-Thought Revival

Journal: *VOICE* ("unthought-like thoughts that are the souls of thought")

Dates: 7-18-05 and 9-8-10

waiting womb


7-18-05

you can wander around lost and searching for something to find you, to make you know yourself for certain...you can do that, wandering forever. 



and you can search outside yourself hoping to find it in the vast but limited world of reality, because the world inside you is unlimited confusion and you can't seem to find yourself there. 



and even when the advice you hear outside tells you to look inside, you don't know where to begin to look.



you know it's been inside you all along, what you're looking for, it's been there waiting for you.



once you find it, or it finds you as it was in my case, your once hazy vision of a world with blurred edges and transitory images comes *SMACK* into focus...and everything is so clear now. everything makes sense, even nonsense. you find a purpose, you find a reason, you find a world you always wished you had but thought it was too far away from where you were...you find yourself. and you know yourself better than you could possibly imagine. better than you could ever explain. and you laugh, remembering how different you were before you knew...how opposite a world was in your view. and you cry, thinking this is the beginning of life, knowing the world before was a womb for the waiting.

Co-creating a World of Love

9-8-10

We are magnets for the experiences we need to heal us into wholeness. Look into the people in your life. Those common experiences and frustrations that bonded you in friendship, love, and understanding...they are a reflection of your own healing path, just as yours is a reflection of theirs. Even the people who irritate but you can't leave them for one reason or another...they, too, represent lessons to learn. And they are learning that same lesson.

The circumstances you find yourself in are always the right ones. Even when you feel the sting of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, or the torture of making bad decisions that lead you to bad results...you were meant to find yourself there.

But these outside forces are not what define who we are.

Inside everyone is a battle between fear and love. It really boils down to that, trite as it may sound. Neither can live with the other, and each is overshadowing the other in any given circumstance.

When you act out of fear, you are not yourself...you are what you know you should discard. And guilt seeps in, then, because you know...and everything else that distances ourselves from the source of our strength begins to snowball into an avalanche. And there you are, buried and frozen until love comes again to the rescue...if you let it.

When you act out of love, you are yourself...even if it feels unfamiliar. And just as fear creates fear, love creates love. With love, however, you expand rather than contract. You grow. You learn. You love more. And you inspire others to look with eyes of love. And they grow. They learn. They love more. And they inspire others.

If fear and love were both wildfires...which would you rather watch run rampant in the world? The one that burns and destroys...or the one that purifies and restores?

Iris

Category: Recycled Visions

Journal: Songbird

Date: 9-1-10

Iris

by Felina Lune Kavi

We will be

a lightning storm...

epic sound and light,

a rainstick

and a thunderous drum--

we'll wake the sky at night.

I want to be

the drop of rain

that soaks into your eye,

so you can see

we're one again

when you look into the sky.

You sing the song

that brings the storm

and stirs soft-spoken rain.

Percussion sounds

the symphony;

your voice enchants my name.

Zailin Michael Linke

Category: Variations on a Theme

Journal: Songbird

Dates: March and August of 2010

(March 2010...written for Zailin's 3rd birthday that it was said he might not have)

Zailin's Song
(Everyone is Everything)

I know a boy brought down to earth,
known as Zailin upon his birth,
with cornsilk hair and lakes for eyes.
Beyond his years, this boy is wise.

Cat in the cradle caught his tongue,
too much to say and still too young.
I close my eyes to read his signs
and this is how his story shines...

Life is music, let it inspire you to be.
Arrange the notes and then you'll see
every life is a song to sing.
Everyone is Everything

He points his finger at the kite
on a day too calm for such a flight.
He imagines his burdens cast into the day,
all pain and suffering is blown away

Zailin observes the world before him
and knows the love of who adores him.
While I watch, he'll catch my eye
a playful smirk as a cryptic reply...

Life is magic, let it inspire you to be.
Wake up renewed and finally see
every life is a piece of me.
Everyone is Everything.

A myriad more than earthly being,
all the space we've not been seeing,
the boy is essence all around us.
Blessed are we that he had found us.

(August 2010)

The Little Hero

He watches superheroes

and becomes them in games.

Fantasies of fighting the good fight,

taking every evil blow--

the hero never dies.

Only imagination lets him dream

when mortality wants to wake him.

But this little boy

can't fight his enemy within.

He can't outsmart

this evil interloper

attacking and blackening his brain.

He finds comfort

in these movies, games,

peaceful vacations,

and festivals of friends.

He finds himself there--

having fun, living life,

being the little hero

with the biggest dreams.

Swan Lake

Category: Recycled Poetry

Journal: The Nest of the Bower Birds

Date: Began on Beltane Eve 2008, completed today

Swan Lake

Tonight I’ll slip away with you

And escape into the woods.

Together as one,

And one with the wild,

To become whatever we would.

We’ve come upon a sacred space

Where our helical paths entwine.

Bonding in braids,

On the eve of Beltane,

We are lovers, redefined.

The Piscean Moon shines across the lake,

The owl in the tree sees each move we make,

The spider in the tent weaves our solemn vows,

Everything was leading us to right now.

The Bird of the Soul

Category: Soul-of-Thought Revival

Journals: The 2004 Venusian Octave (Music of the Spheres), Confessions of Her Roaring Twenties, and Blue Moon Seachange

Dates: 11-24-2004, June 2006, 6-23-2007, and 8-16-2010

11-24-2004

this is why the caged bird sings...
The symbolism of the caged bird appears in much of women's literature. And each time I encounter it in writing, my insides twist up a bit and my throat gets tight with emotional tension.

I've always felt the wings of my words like they were caged in my ribs...thumping out their message with my heartbeat as their rhythm. And this phoenix within me cannot be forced through my voice and out of my mouth, her wings are much too large. Instead she has found solace in the openness of my mind, where she can fly to the highest heights and across the boundless seas of a world that exists only in my perception. And though she was once a gypsy spirit, she has found a home with me.

And with her in mind, I can write like the wind. She knows not how to write, or speak in language discernable to ears, but she knows what she knows...and it's so much more than I have ever learned myself. Her stories, her poetry, her birdsongs...I translate them through to my fingertips. And there, in writing, lies my soul.

......................................................................................................

The torturous June of 2006

Perched

Perched like a bird on the balcony

awaiting what is difficult to bear,

she sits as if in a still life

as birds build up nests of her hair.

She projects confidence through stoic seclusion,

which means little to nothing at all.

Preened feathers show nothing of the fear

that built up and will break down her wall.

Balcony Bird

Wash me up on the shores of thought

Stop the time I never forgot

Find my soul in a quiet world

Live a life of love unfurled

Drown all pain by an act of God

Fly this bird through skies abroad

Lift me up from the fall of grace

Take the time to grow from this place

Soothe my soul with the breath of peace

Have a life before it should cease

Face all pain with the strength to stay

Watch this bird as she floats away

............................................................

6-23-2007

~Dejavu~

She becomes her thoughts unravelled,
oldest soul through bodies travelled.
in a cage where ribs are bars,
in a mind aligned with stars,
with the wings of voice and reason,
ever evolving like the seasons.
She unmasks the truth of being
through the writer, always seeing.

............................................................

2010

Soul Bird

Tiny dinosaurs,

feathered and singing,

flit from branch to feeder

and fly away.

The one within

calls out to them,

but they cannot hear

her song.

I write the words

for her freedom.

I clear my head

for her flight.

The Little-Girl Trilogy

Category: Recycled Poetry

Journal: Confessions of Her Roaring Twenties

Dates: 2002, 2008, and 2010

little-girl (2002)

by Felina Lune Kavi

i've not felt

so little-girl before,

nor did i harbor thoughts

of endless love...

but in the quickest instant

i must question my existence

as a secret

and a lie

and as a whore.

still i've never felt

this little-girl before...

mostly every time

he pushes me away.

i need to feel his love,

i need him to share my love...

for there's far more of it

than this little-girl can store.

(2008)

once i knew this little-girl before--

wrapped warm with new thoughts,

she simply forgot

she's not a little-girl anymore.

absence makes the heart grow fonder;

absence makes the restless mind wander.

'why' and 'how' and 'what was i thinking'...

suddenly her world is shrinking.

now i know this little-girl again--

selfish and silly,

desperately willing

to be taken as more than a friend.

idealism comes on too strongly;

idealism increases the longing.

she hopes for perfect love and perfect trust...

but it translates into perfect lust.

and now you know this little-girl as well--

she is chaos contained

but she cannot refrain

from the depths of feeling in which she fell.

(2010)

i've come across this little-girl before.

the difference now is she is safe in love.

after innocence lost,

a threshold was crossed--

she married who she endlessly adores.

now i'll always know this little-girl i feel.

she's never to be pushed away again.

although she doesn't show,

wrapped warm with woman's clothes,

she's present in the moments that are real.

still i'm seeing things so little-girl once more.

now a daughter clings to any kind of love.

sharing treats and toys,

holding hands with little-boys--

little-girl lessons can never be ignored.