(This piece of writing came to me whilst I was on the balcony watching the stars (and two shooting stars) and listening to this song after a sleepless night and an exhausting day decluttering my study and trying to make sense out of my life.
I suggest reading this writing following the rhythm of the drums, as you please, letting yourself be carried by the eternal beat of life in its daily earthly rituals that talk to our Soul. Enjoy!)
There
is always a place I will somehow call home,
It
is somewhere amongst those stars,
I
keep on staring at nearly ever night.
And
each time I trespass the door of that home,
something
makes me feel safe.
Something
reminds me,
soothes
my frail nerves,
my
aching heart,
doubting
soul.
A
Voice whispers...
that
I am following a Thread,
a
magical Web...
A
tortuous River,
woven
in many lifetimes,
in
many epochs,
far
and near...
And
each time,
however
extremely different the situation is.
I
somehow,
finally
return to that home,
to
that call,
to
that unmistakable Whisper.
That
formulates its Sense,
in
between the Silences,
emerging
from primordial Chaos,
bubbling
with Divine Order.
Be
it under a tree in the city of Velia,
Under
the Menhir guarding the Megalithic temples of the Goddess,
Near
the well of a mediaeval cloister,
Amongst
blossoming night white flowers on the ziggurat,
Or
near the Nile watching the Orion rise,
celebrating
the blessings of a new New Year.
I
always come back to this call,
where
my Logic fails,
my
Ego surrenders,
as
It remembers in its bones,
as
a burning mark on the skin,
that
pierces the Soul,
and
robs away the sleep from the night.
Of
a promise,
of
a service.
Beyond
Me,
Yet
only through Me.
The
eternal doubting Me.
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