The Hub Bubble Journal

 When the seasons divide bringing air to rush mouths to halt mid-yawn at thunder's clatter; As energy subsides to fear of morning's hush, winding limbs recoiling causing dreams to shatter. When ordained skies move as one with the earth, in that second when all is in view on life's horizon; Laid bare, caressed of hope transparent, undisturbed; In that brief interlude, in that copse of heaven smiling. That is when our bond lives outside of earthly realm. That is where our love is molten gold and shining .. Where shadows sweep and search high for our gem; There is our sacred altar where our hearts lay as diamonds. It is such a good feeling to know that to describe a feeling in a certain way can bring another person to complete understanding and recognition. The best part is knowing we are united with humility.

 I do not care that he did not say sorry. It pulls my heart only that he did not feel it. Coveting of my words - private, laid bare  and vulnerable, innermost feeling; not his experience, not his truth! Plunged like a wound to my soul. In the discovery not of his sharing my words  as his to own, not that, but in all the loss; I lost years .. staying, waiting, being unaware that all he did to bring me down, to discredit me, was done to hide his deed.  That thrashing of my soul was not innocent. It was contrived in every motion, gesture, hammered out. No emotion, he was not present, not ever with me. He knows yet still hides and exalts himself. He cannot see beyond the perimeter I know is there. This makes me sad for life, for truth is never his, nor will be. He cannot release his inner self. I have a way to let go of my pain that is bereft to him. We can all be hurt by betrayal but the hardest part of any experience is to have to accept that no matter how much you car...

 The heaven's avalanche cascades. Starlight bursts through earth's charade. In skies so dark hope has appeared, through silence thrown on the crisp air so clear. The North Star bright stares at The Plough and orders tides to settle down; A happy rain cloud gives one last shudder as it gently shakes on a word of thunder. Angels heads bow down to host Christ their saviour and holy ghost. It is quite innate in us all as children to be so in wonder of descriptive stories and prayers and oh how we love to feel a part of it all. 

  Campassion tilts the heart, until ready to pour. If there was any evidence of where love had begun; If I could plunge my hand into the belly of my soul, to bring forth the sapling of its origin, crisp and fresh; As the newborn truth of my desire for your happiness, would your doubts be quenched ... or recomposed as fears? In our quests to express the bond with what we know within and the frustrations we can feel to the lack of awareness in others ... it is in that wise moment that the deep truth touches us to reach toward compassion ... the tilting heart is always open.

 As the dusk arrives and the moss gathers on a thousand pebbles; As the colour strips away from the peeling clouds; As the dark night doubts, for just one second, before he allows the first star to splash its delight, lifting the darkness to the boon of twilight which draws the empty soul out from under the covers that are the tranquil mask over day; As the ocean falters on its decision and shakes hands with the moon as he turns on his projector; As the earth begins to shiver with heavy eyelids, unable to throw her glory into the prevailing light shimmer; As the moment of whispers and secrets is revealed as an audience sleeps; That's when all questions are answered. Accepting all that is as it is, relenting to the understanding that we can control but we are not in control. Man did not create the universe. That brings to bear its glory.

 Seasons skip, the foxgloves refuse. An array is imminent, they have learned the wall but not the sun; elegance but no scent. A small buff moth is thrown to the cool breeze, lost nomad seeking shelter dances into the shadows; no charisma without light. Tomorrow the sky may shimmer as foxgloves yawn to the warmth, sunkissed silhouettes caressing the wall like rain. Everything around us will remind us of just how glorious all life is, how every living organism depends on another ... all can change, be affected by the elements one on another. Precious nature relies on our protection. 

 You told me that the butterfly would always bring me news, Your presence I could count upon if she did dance around my shoes. When I woke up I wished for one to bring you close to me, Then as I sat out in the sun she sought to land upon my knee. Now my eyes pool silver rain as I look down to greet  A splendid butterfly ballet all spritely around my feet. We don't always see what or who is around us in our every day pursuits or take the time to realise just how beautiful and important every being we are connected to is. How wonderful to know this presence even though it may not be in our immediate gaze.