It has always been hard for me to describe just how much poetry means to me - because it is hard to put into words the power and the magic that I feel whenever the title or the idea for a new poem comes to me. It's breathtaking! It's amazing! It's exciting! It's revitalizing! I have been writing poetry for so long now that the ability to do so almost feels like a sixth sense that I can't turn on or off - in fact, sometimes I almost feel like a conductor who can always find a way to reach out and attract an abundance of poetic lightning. I have experienced moments of exhilaration and levitation while writing poetry that I can only compare to instances similar to how people describe what it feels like to have been touched by the divine hand of an Angel or a God - and every time that I do feel inspired to write something I have never written before the only way that I know how to describe the experience is to say that it feels like I have been given a message that was for my eyes only, because I alone was the only one who could decipher this hidden, but ever present, code of poetry.
messenger
My Poem ‘The Messenger’
Everybody is here on this Earth,
everybody is a part of this world,
for a reason – but, sometimes,
most of the time, more often than not,
people have no idea why…
I, however, know exactly why I am here,
why I am alive, and what my reason to live is
and will be until the day I die:
I am a messenger, but not a messenger
that you may expect,
I do not look like any “messenger”
that I have seen in my life –
I do not wear a uniform,
and what I does not always require me to drive…
I suppose I am like an old-fashioned telephone receiver,
and when I receive a very important call
with a very important message to be delivered to someone
I answer it without question or hesitation
and I go to pass on what I have been asked to deliver.
I never know who the sender is,
I never know who the recipient will be –
I only know a face, sometimes I even know a first-name;
I do not know what the message I am delivering is
sometimes until the moment that I deliver it…
I don’t even know where I am going
until I see the signs showing me the way
to where I need to get to –
it’s like I am painting a picture of something
that hasn’t happened yet as I take each and every step,
and it is only at the end of my delivery
that I can see the complete picture in its entirety,
like stepping back and looking at a canvas
newly-framed and mounted on the wall of a gallery.
I have delivered more messages than I can remember:
a young man sitting on a bus…
I remember telling him something
that his older sister wanted him to know:
that even though she had run away from home she still loved him
and that they would see each-other again one day –
some of the messages are so emotional to deliver,
I cannot help but break-down in tears
as I give them their message,
but in the same breath I love being the bearer of hope
and that sometimes invisible and silent hand
upon a person’s shoulder
telling them that every-thing is going to be alright.
I am not sure why I was chosen…
I am not sure who it was who chose me…
I am not sure if I am doing God’s work…
I am not sure what happens next
after I reach out, on behalf of someone else,
to another person…
I am not sure if my delivery of the message
is delivered in the same way as was intended –
most of the time I can deliver
what the message is with a look
and with a burst of thought,
like I am the conductor
of some kind of psychic-electricity;
sometimes I just let the message do all the work
and I just watch from behind my own eyes
while my body acts as if it has been possessed
by some kind of magical curse.
To most people who meet me,
I am nothing more than a stranger;
to a higher-power,
I am the one whom they chose
to be their psychic-amplifier;
to the sender of the messages that I send,
I am a link to someone who they want to talk to
without having to use their own voice –
I am their secret-teller,
I am one of their story-tellers…
I am here, I am there,
to be close and near to someone,
so that I can be who from a small child
I was always destined to be:
‘The Messenger’.
My Poem ‘Elise Jené’
My beautiful, wonderful
and talented friend, Elise Jené,
is, and has been, an inspiring light
for everyone who has ever met her –
and that was something that I saw,
felt, and knew, when I first met her,
all those years ago,
when she became my friend on that first day.
Elise is a musician, a teacher,
a healer, a divine messenger;
Elise is a singer, a song-writer,
a lover of life, who I once described
as a “jewel of Canada”;
Elise is a friend, a warrior,
a believer, a world-traveler,
and an extra-dimensional explorer –
who has not only seen the world,
but she also understands the world;
and until I met her,
I had never met anyone like her.
I have been listening to Elise’s music for years;
I have been listening to Elise’s beautiful voice
and been literally been brought to tears;
I have thought of Elise as a spiritual guide for me,
ever since we first traded messages;
I have seen Elise rise higher and higher,
and I truly believe that her spirit and mine
have been communicating for ages.
When Elise plays her guitar,
when Elise plays a song on a piano,
when Elise sings a song of hers,
I am instantly reminded of the meaning of the heavens,
the universe, and the music of the stars;
when Elise performs, and talks,
I am always captivated by her voice –
and I can even imagine seeing her sing and play,
even if I can only, merely, and wonderfully
hear her voice on the radio.
My friend is great;
my friend is beautiful and amazing in so many ways;
my friend is so close to me in spirit,
even if she is physically far-away;
my friend is incredible,
and I am so lucky to have an infinite friend
like my friend, Elise Jené.
Check out my friend Elise Jene’s amazing website SuryaDevi.com and check our her amazing music @ Mantrasforthemasses.com
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