Who will strike a match on the lover's soul When all the eminent materialists claim stance in their way?
Who will cry and yearn for beauty to blossom in the hearts and souls of men and women When there are “more important things to do” ?
The time of the artist is not over. She will come forward to claim the pure roundness of any pearl or gem Which hang in the air of pristine value.
Her cloak is hemmed with the Sun, Moon and Stars. The soul held knowingly at her breast She guards her courage diligently Foreseeing that these times are blind to her wisdom.
But, Not To Worry! What is stronger than the word of love?
or
The first blossom of an awakened heart?
The quill is held in her hand Where she commands all the days and nights of eternity to write her book of songs.
For it is here Where pilgrims will come to glance for signs of hope When the last of the nobility have drunk the wine of material illusion.
The words like linen and fleece Will soften even the hardest of stone-disillusionment And will once again point us toward the light of Resurrection and Illumination.
By Orchid Jones April 22 2012
