Friday 21 August 2009


LOVE crossed my threshold in her bridal white,
A diadem of stars adorned her hair.
She chanted in cadenced accents fair,
"For Man, there is division, wretched is his plight,

The notion of 'another' he always keeps in sight,
It's more than he dares, and it's extremely rare,
To transcend the thought that there's another there.
Don't see others,just be others, that is really right.

Like a mother wraps strong arms around her son
To breast, she holds him firmly, right up tight.
A smile slips across her lips, sunkissed bright,
United to her babe, she finds the two are one!"

In our great quest to find Divine Mother's Grace,
Hold her firmly in your heart with warm embrace.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Note: only a member of this blog may post a comment.