© 2014 - Reprinted with permission from Shining Lotus Metaphysical Bookstore Newsletter March 2014
by Drusant
What unseen words still knock to be reopened,
Like the Hall of Records, beckoning to be heard?
Like the Hall of Records, beckoning to be heard?
Like the unseen flower who loves to be noticed,
What ancient deeds and thoughts still wait to bloom again?
What ancient deeds and thoughts still wait to bloom again?
What would they tell us with opened verse?
What secrets and delights would they marshal for inspection?
What secrets and delights would they marshal for inspection?
They would speak of love.
They would speak to hold the eye single.
They would explain why we forgot our birthright and our origin
And of the heavens when we crafted this moment.
They would speak to hold the eye single.
They would explain why we forgot our birthright and our origin
And of the heavens when we crafted this moment.
They would tell of sacred cycles,
Of the depth of repeated effort and our birth to truth;
That eternal canopy that shelters our tomorrows,
Not unlike a mother’s wing.
Of the depth of repeated effort and our birth to truth;
That eternal canopy that shelters our tomorrows,
Not unlike a mother’s wing.
They would explain the atom’s spin,
Of attraction and repulsion,
And why we’re here,
So much so, like a father’s consoling word.
Of attraction and repulsion,
And why we’re here,
So much so, like a father’s consoling word.
What drives the archeologist to dig and scratch and search?
What pushes the highest climber to distant lands?
But to know all that is, to feel and see and do.
What pushes the highest climber to distant lands?
But to know all that is, to feel and see and do.
Why?
Because we are made that way.
It’s recorded, hidden in the ancient voice.
It’s our nature to embrace all that we see
And to do all that we think.
It’s recorded, hidden in the ancient voice.
It’s our nature to embrace all that we see
And to do all that we think.
It’s a time capsule,
Buried in our genes
To be recovered by our command, by our voice;
Not by the ancients or from the sunken caverns of a distant land.
Buried in our genes
To be recovered by our command, by our voice;
Not by the ancients or from the sunken caverns of a distant land.
Drusant is the pen name of a long-time, faithful customer of the Shining Lotus™ Metaphysical Bookstore. A unendingly inquisitive mind that never stops asking ‘why?’ or ‘how?’, he continues to quest for esoteric, spiritual and paranormal answers in the Denver area. We are extremely grateful to him for allowing us to publish his creative writings in our newsletter and on our website. Go to www.shininglotus.com and find the search field, type “drusant” and enjoy some of his other articles.
