Tory – Page 3 – The Warrior of Poetry: The Poetry archive

Ode For Xmas

It was a time of celebration when the prince defended. On time, in time amongst other times. Not seen by others in etheric spaces from the past, and in the now, from the unseen and the forever. All that ever was had gathered in the parallels that we sense but rarely see. All whosoever good or bad lived and died had gathered in the voids of presences.

This is how we are all related, at this time, settling Karmic balances on the wave of New Age discovery so Christmas has a right to be here a teasing reflective balance of imbalances the promise to right the wrongs, in cheery song of merry spirits in or out of this world all condense on the New Years eve condolences, to the passing of the past one and to prey for our Prince of Light The Master Jesus before he returns to Saturn.

Searching

Searching for the days of Magnificent Unity amongst many disenfranchised remnants of a once tenable society, when lost in a pit of loneliness and isolation. Desperately trying to climb from slippery depth not knowing if a hand would descend to pull them to freedom they screamed and moaned.

Above all they could see, a white dot in erratic form as if something up there was trying to rebuild what had been lost. After the third world war had enough lessons, been learned for a new code of cooperation and friendliness to exist . Soon the remaining world would see, as the sides of this pit dried and those left in could at last climb out.

Blinded by the light they emerged with nothing of material value they stumbled and walked forward as instructed for a world in emergency, an Auric Beacon could be heard followed by ovals of violet etheric flames, as moving soothing fingers attempting to crawl up and down the surviving bodies.

Emerging, the beacons trumpeted hard penetrating ears and colour twirls sparking from beacons, other sound gathered up from miles around, the energy had to be consumed to be felt. Indeed the energies of rebirth had begun to heal cosmic intervention for a new world and rebirth of real and peaceful humanity had begun. Chime Ming could be heard accompanied by a sweet warm draught of perfumed air.

Waiting

The healer, did he come for you. Did he make you new?. How did he know it was you that day. Most unexpected random day, random word in the ear. Softly through to your central workings. Waiting for change to happen.

A Thousand People & Mesmerise

A thousand people in one room morphing in transmigration, a thousand faces coming and going spinning energising pulled from the vortex of the chakra all fleeting stepping up and on differing plains of existence fast moving dispersal to the halls of judgement and Akashic records to discover where we are bound for next.

Message to discarnate forces why would one float alone with an absence of family we are told we die alone, but to whom or what do we belong, as only those left, the current living miss one the most. So why are you alone in the hall of reckoning waiting to read the Akashic records waiting for rebirth in a lonely place upon a wavelength of karmic pattern.

Mesmerise

Mesmerise all that drama in a magazine with colours so bright it comes to life on a coffee ? table near you, vibrant above your daily drab it calls you, its all makeup and fizz. collect them for colour and kaleidoscope rainbow of personal drama…

The Year 2096 & What A Strange Saying

The year 2096, on planet earth much had changed the ring pass knot surrounding earth commonly known as the ozone layer had eroded the god that is the sun which was strong and more punishing than ever.

Skin cancer had become the epidemic of the times, crop failure and death by shrivelling heat had left millions of humans as husks upon the barren ground, earth population had diminished to the merest of millions. Even the sea looked like the surface of mars.

Those who survived on high or in caves in India had concentrated their efforts upon perfection and preservation for what was to become known as the pineal gland bank, thousands of preserved pineal gland’s catalogued in small specialised containers frozen ready for the coming days of transmitting and transmigration to transmit the knowing to the greater light in another life stream.

At Two Forty Five.

Very densely alone under the upturned ocean that is the sky, our minds eye what a strange saying. But how real is it, to be two eyes to a mind and clouds of the now, before and after. But beyond is the inner eye, another universe and more than man can see with two eyes open. Go to sleep, for this measure in breath involution and out breath, go back in then beyond limitation to what will become more than this life a soul beyond spirit and more and more than can be seen through cloud gaps at two forty five in the afternoon.