The Land Where Souls Play.
An awakening to dawn mist on the water,
by Michael Levy
Flowing Spirit’s streams to God’s alter,
Purifying essence whistles through the trees,
Images of the sacred blowing in the breeze.
Flights of fancy from birds up high,
Feathers of many colors filtering through the sky,
Sun, moon and stars envelops Earth’s dome,
We’re all birds of a feather, finding our way home.
Spectacle of mesmerizing movements flashing in the mind,
Melting pots of humans, secrets hard to find,
Love all embracing whispers on the wind,
No physical presence, ecstasy from a light dimmed.
Gifts of joy enmeshed in music and dance,
Visualizing images filtering in a trance,
Warriors in a drumbeat at journeys end,
Back to the womb of creation enmeshed in a substance blend.
Wondrous dreams in the stillness of the dark,
Journey on uplifting voyages in paradise park,
Thunder and lightening points the way,
A prelude to the land where Soul’s play.