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Ignition

October 12, 2021

Ignition

By Amba Gale

“Pick up your pen and write,” she says,
 that wise and ancient Voice: the devoted Muse,
speaking to me in the grey morning, white
 ball of sun
 in the sky,
in the water, below.

Below,
where the surface conversation has long since disappeared,
I ask a private question: “Of what shall I write?”

“Anything you hear in the deep well of your own heart.”

“Write about the loon mourning the days away.
Write about the turtle who belongs
  in the pond among the lilies.
Write about a world of wonders.
Write about me, who will always encourage
   you to find me,
           to find your self
           through these beautiful
               white pages in your lap,
           through the warmth and smell of the tea
               you drink every morning
               attending to it smoothing through your body
           through the grey soothing sea below
               your window carrying the splashing sparks of the sun
               dancing          dancing          dancing
           through your
                                 Love
                                          Of
                                               Life.
            May you meet yourself.
            There, may you be delightfully surprised by who you find.

Additional Poetry

September 27, 2021

Patience

Hello, Great Blue! You, who walk so stealthily, so faithfully, so gracefully, so quietly, on your long, lanky, legs, looking, waiting for your first, tasty morsel from the sea, yellowing sea. Good morning, Great Blue, Long Necked Warrior of the Morning birds, you, who work so attentively alertly, keen for your morning fish. looking outwards toward the rising, brightening, sun. Do you watch for the sun to rise? Are you single pointedly moving towards the exact place where the fish meet your beak? This is the way I want to awaken each day, saying hello to the wild world before…

September 15, 2021

Sailing Effortlessly into Silence

On the porch now. I drink my morning healing tea. The aroma and warmth make my body feel good, like I am meant to be here. It is always good to know that I am meant to be where I am. The sailboat, with its white, full sail glides soundlessly, effortlessly, past the island nearby, wind at its tail. I glide effortlessly into no time. There, I find my Inner guide, speaking a blessing: May the divine wind lift my sails of trust, May I intuit and attune, allowing the breeze to carry me effortlessly home, knowing that I am…

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