All That Is

[trixiewilbury]

In the fields and encampments,
the raptures and the grand yielding
the adventures of dreaminess
and time in all its formats, the paradox
from our lowly vantage to the revolving faceted jewel
that we could but view at the loftiest of spiritual peaks,
we seek upon the wings of all that is love, infinite truth,
the battlements demolished.
Glad voices revel in the tidings
of the purest of joys stemming only from Love,
from that which flows through us and seeks to replenish itself,
through fields and hillsides,
greenest of rolling meadows,
the golden tips of sunlight that revolve and radiate
upon the waves that dance below.
Emerging from the caverns and old carvings
to the brightest of new visions: freedom
through spirit, through eternal love and rightful domain,
the divine within reveals the truth,
discards the untruth, breaking the shackles
which we have lugged and dragged
for far too many centuries. The light
which reigns in glorious beauty,
a wreath of true value and valorous deeds,
freed finally to give without expectation
and only because it is best and right, an understanding
and radiant finale of the laws that need no writing.
Herein lies the absolute truth. Herein all the truth
is presented and easily understandable with eyes
that have been awakened, to the inherent wisdom
which may never be disputed because it unfolds
before us every dawn and twilight,
in the patterns and variations of the turning heavens,
the consistencies of time and space
do not need the name of magic;
they simply are the love of the creator,
of all of us, ceaselessly attending and awaiting
the perfection of the creator’s stamp
within all of us, as we are All That Is.