Building goodness

We work with hands
and souls
adding a bit of this and that
the scents of life fill the air
as we roll out the goodness
like welcome mats,
in joy we move fluidly
swirling
twirling to the sounds
of the wind that blows,
the heart filled
overflowing with the sense
of coming home.
Flying skies bring gifts
and time will move a bit slower
waiting for days
and smiling faces
meeting with the hope and love
shared with souls who speak
through ink and key,
as the spirit moves us
united we stand
cut from the cloth
and pieced together
the garment of a sky
spread with diamonds wished upon
and crescent moons punched out
leaving the clouds jealous
of the glow.
We are building goodness
with peace and love
prayer and hope
for a new day richer
with the lightness of a giving heart.

Sacred space

Time passes
sand dripping down shining
as we fly in the creative sky
on lost wings found
gathered and held
in a place of peace.
Carved pony watches silently
soft and smooth
encouraging to dream
as purple blue crystal
glitters in her silver finery
always looking behind.
Golden Ganesh gazes knowingly
as the bones of whales
cradles the salt of the mighty sea,
found by me
with the golden stone
which makes me smile.
White sea something
but beautiful in its way
and the quartz from a far away garden
in years before I knew
that writing was the key.
Watercolor skies and seas
the little things
that speak to me
in this blue room sacred space,
my bliss lies here
as I gaze
at a writers muse.

Just a glimpse at the top of my desk in my blue writing room. Company comes tomorrow and I will have to put it away from little hands. The watercolor is my latest piece, came out a bit odd with the panoramic view of the camera. Just a glimpse into my writing world. Peace and blessings, K

Moving on

In the blink of an eye
or so it seems
locked in this world
of beautiful dreams
where colors take flight
with the gift of might
we shatter the spell
of heaven and hell.

Beneath the surface
the ideas grow
and bursting forth
the seeds they sow
to dig in deep
to spin the tale
of an alien world
we’ve set to sail
on waters that grow
so deep and dark
and we pray for the sight
of dove or lark,
but find instead the bit of sun
when least expected
our journeys done.

Just some babbling thoughts. Our mushrooms seem happy with this damp (crap) atmosphere of grey days and rain…another day gone and they’ve gone crazy. Perhaps they need their own pot. The little nubs from yesterdays post have now taken control of the pot, crowding each other out, looking like squished umbrellas or little china men straw hats ๐Ÿ™‚

taken last night…they’re growing…

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taken this morning….shrooms on steroids ๐Ÿ™‚