Where Angels Walk

You Are My Angel of Joy
by TwoHawk Speaking for White Eagle

You are my angel
You are my gift
I cannot exchange you
I cannot keep you,
Although I would like to.
I cannot carry
More than I can lift
My Spirit-shifting
My Soul-keeping me
In your arms
In your dreams
Keeps me hidden
Up your sleeves
Like a magician in between the seams,
Keeping me from unraveling my imaginations
About You.
You are my angel
You are my friend
You are my sister and my brother
In every twist and bend of a journey
That's just beginning . I hope it will end up
Being The Beginning
Alone, the only angel
With a light to look up to
A softening, a glistening
A spark that kick-starts
My morning,
My evening
Not too harsh nor too bright
In my face; a glare
I can't ignore
Or try to avoid.
One I can not shun
Nor lower my eyes
Nor keep from staring
Into such beauty as
You !
In the early morning light
I arrived before The Sun
The Morning Glories still and pink
Tainted petaled memories
Of a previous night's reveries
You are my angel
I am your friend, said the Morning Glory
I am You!
You are me? I said, Why me?
I am your sister, You are my brother
My mother the other wife
We are one another.
I am glad you arrived early and were willing
To Listen.
Those still asleep, memories faded
Those who weep, thoughts so jaded
You! Seekers of Wisdom and Beauty never sleep
You are my angel
My Moon and my Sun
My hearth to come home to
My Fire to caress me in honey and clover
And to warn me of the coming cold rushing over us
Burning with desire to win your heart
For just one single moment of your day in the sun
Your dark nights filled with silver and satin-spun light
I can't. I might.
The moon on your horizon
Is the sun on my risin' so early today
Before the real sun unfurls its sails
Sending me away
To an "other" sun,
The one that sets, the one that has yet begun
To be in me.
So there you have the gist of it
One: You are the fairest angel
Two: You are the rarest giMy morning,
My evening
Not too harsh nor too bright
In my face; a glare
I can't ignore
Or try to avoid.
One I can not shun
Nor lower my eyes
Nor keep from staring
Into such beauty as
You !
In the early morning light
I arrived before The Sun
The Morning Glories still and pink
Tainted petaled memories
Of a previous night's reveries
You are my angel
I am your friend, said the Morning Glory
I am You!
You are me? I said, Why me?
I am your sister, You are my brother
My mother the other wife
We are one another.
I am glad you arrived early and were willing
To Listen.
Those still asleep, memories faded
Those who weep, thoughts so jaded
You! Seekers of Wisdom and Beauty never sleep
You are my angel
My Moon and my Sun
My hearth to come home to
My Fire to caress me in honey and clover
And to warn me of the coming cold rushing over us
Burning with desire to win your heart
For just one single moment of your day in the sun
Your dark nights filled with silver and satin-spun light
I can't. I might.
The moon on your horizon
Is the sun on my risin' so early today
Before the real sun unfurls its sails
Sending me away
To an "other" sun,
The one that sets, the one that has yet begun
To be in me.
So there you have the gist of it
One: You are the fairest angel
Two: You are the rarest gift
Three: You are the dearest friend
And four: You are my treasured sun.
Five, You are my moon, the "other" wife,
Six, The Light of my life
And seven, my dear? You are the seven in one!
You will see.
Now the other three (that make up eight, nine, and ten), I spoke of earlier:
The fire, the hearth and the home, well, they too are three in one.
Just like the seventh son slash one
Behind Jupiter's seven emanations lies the source of his power:
His One mother, sister & wife.
(We know Her as The Goddess of Love three in one: RheaSaturna, DianaLuna and VenusAphrodite.)
While this seems like a diversion from my poem, Its not. More about the "other" parts of you.
Later on, I hope.
Its where this poem came from when You were young.
I learned this from an old dream which You later confirmed.
This is why this poem is always being written.
I am Jupiter's seventh son and you are the one and only
Mother-Sister-Wife I've come to know now as
The Joyous Sister Woman-divine Celina. You are
The Poem
You have seen me before the stars were born
As you read and realize that you are The Poem
And the meaning of the fire and the hearth, then you will also know you are
At home.
You always have been The Home and The Hearth to me
Now I could go on and on, so I will!
Until the words stop flowing
Until all the pages of my life
Stop glowing
Or I run out of ink.
THEN ! I'll read
Will such lovely things ever come to a close
Will I ever stop to think?
Will I ever stop to sink beneath this beauty? Maybe....
Tonight, I might.
So, though I said I wouldn't, I will go on until my fingers are blue and my brain goes numb
Its quite fun you know at this ungodly hour.
Already talking about elixirs and pleasures of you
Joyful fixtures and leisurely mixtures
Only the gods get to drink!
In celestial taverns with tapistries and cocktails
Rich with red-wine velvets in divine crystal glasses
Only drunken Soldiers of the Heart take with them on the path to war (or is it the path of retreat)
I might start over
Over and over my head over heels over heart. Such heady stuff
When words of Joy can conjure up such magical luxury
In the mind of imaginary children
Rocking on horses in a world made of dolts
On Merry-go-rounds made for colts instead of stronger forces
Whose lips start to quivver then, having already touched the rim
The Silver Cup slipping through their fingers sipping instead of
Drinking again.
Amazing what children playing in solitude can do
Amazing what a sister can lead us through
Straight to the forefront adults often go
Straight to the point
While the child in us is happy with
The abundance of toys
The Innocence of plots and ploys. Its just
The foreplay.
Of laughter amongst each other
While adults are busy anointing themselves
With oils of starlight
Coiling others under the stone-faced stares
Of hiding too long from the lightning of life's thunder
Not strong enough to linger around a while longer
Waiting for The Rainbow that comes after the rain when the real play
Gets underway.
The wounds of too much thinking
The sinking beneath The Plotted Ground
Too many plots allotted, too many ploys in store for those
Whose sins have been washed ashore unseen
Whose conception and pre-dilection with guilt
Seems to have come to the fore
Wondering how it got there,
Forgetting they created it, regretting that even the ocean has left it for someone else to devour.
Don't you want It? I cried.
I have separated the cream of the crop
From the silken tassles at the top
I have harvested the best.
I have milked the rest.
Will you forgive my blundering?
The thundering pounding of the waves
I make beneath the sheaves of
My heart!
Please stop pounding me so hard
She said with her clenching fist
Stop sounding so bitter, so harsh about all of this
Above us, below us, all around us
Unfolds the mystery and the misery of your miserable human life
Divinity seethes beneath these sheets.
Here lies a bed of a different coral uncrushed without the weight
Of previous blunders.
It's MY heart that's pounding with love for you, not yours!
Who is speaking here?
It is I, said The Mother of Light
The Great Massive Angel of Everything That Is you are under
The one you just honored with your previous words
Go back to those simple words of joy and children's laughter
The circling of delight
The merry-go-round of pretty horsies and toy soldiers
Mounds of worry and warning, I can stand to hear no longer.
I see, I said. It IS about you
Its not about me, is it?
At the beginning, at the end and in between can I be free if I can just be here with you?
"If you let me take your hands, and let the elusive sands of your beginnings
Slip through my fingers"
"If you walk with me, let your feet tred in deep waters with me"
"Let your willowy thoughts list with the wind"
"Let your dance be your sin!"
"If you take this chance while you can"
"To mark your territory. And tell me once again"
"You are my angel"
Then we will begin to understand each other.
You are my angel, I repeated.
You are my angel
You are my friend
You are my sister and my brother
My Mother and my Grandmother My Earthling Founder
I will always love you from the moment of my birthing
Nearing my end

Of this poem?

"I doubt it," She said.
"The day has just begun. Are your fingers tired of typing?"
"No they are not," I said.
"Ok, Then, let us call on all the angels
Said a Voice coming from out of nowhere.
"You have no other choice but to sing of rejoicing instead of redeeming if you want to stay with me in this
bed"
"The human people need that more than ever before"
"To help them remember"
"With Milton and Joyce"
"That Paradise ISN'T lost"
"That was a figment of a writer's emotions"
"Their impressions moistened with tears"
"No regressions, only forward confessions. No fears, no oppressions"
"No Pilgrim's Progress nor anymore of Goerthe's Tears of The Sun"
"Proust with his thoughts. They cannot be undone. They shouldn't be."
"There is love and hope between every line they wrote. You just don't see it"
"Regardless of the suffering and abuse they often speak of. You can leave those thoughts behind, too."
"Truth isn't always bound up in knowledge, you know, nor is wisdom necessarily embedded in time"
"It can't be found under a mound of crap."
"The hope I speak of is strung between the lines"
"You read about but rarely speak about"
"Teach us about the way it is, then, "I asked The Angel.
There was only silence from that point on:
Divine Silence was manoevering impossible lives
Where mystery knots unwind the warp from the weft.
"All in due time," a softer voice inside my head whispered to me.
Thank you for The Un-knowing you just made, the Granddaughter of Light was saying
I will step back and look down at my feet
Long enough to find
What is it You seek
To implant in me? I will find the hope of which You speak
And never let it go again
It will be the only baggage I carry this time
On the journey before me.
I can see now, how my earthly existance began:
Without hesitation or resistance
About traveling hand in hand with the gods and the rainbows their children make
On angels wings while they dance and sing
About you IS about me
When you send for me.

Golden threads caught between the lines
But held sacred in the pot at the end.
Enough said, I said. I will keep my door open and
Relight the sacred fire. Keeping it burning
As long as I can.
Grandmother?
Everyone who enters your heart with me, before me, and after me
Will they always be welcome to sit by the fire I havel built
Will I sire only the essence of your desire
Within me?
Yes, you can
One more thing, though, The One Spirit Thats Holy
The one that is Great
The help The Great Mystery and All your Relations gave to me
They gave them back to you
While writing this poem,
This I am truely grateful.
Thank you for helping me to find true happiness here
At Home.
Aho!