What is past is already forgotten,
and interpretation only distorts
the truth that you have found

and that exists as a dewdrop
on the soft petals of your heart,
that are already absorbing
the precious gem
of moisture
that's already feeding you
the nourishment
of stillness within love.

We sit here, together,
under the shady tree
with purple lilacs near by,
hearing the songs of passers by
—children and birds alike.

We sit here in our togetherness
with the sun that shines upon us,
in peace, in quiet, in solace
but not solitary,
for we have the tree
that stands before us
and the grasses beneath our feet,
and most of all
we have the song of the soul inside of us
waiting to be heard,
waiting to be shared
because that's what songs do.

Yes, we sit here beside one another
with a song in the heart,
so if you ever wonder
what it is that you might do
the answer is
to sing them
in the celebration of the life
that you have
existing here inside of Me
the Divine Mother's love.

Little flower
with tender petals opening towards the morning light,
where any clouds pass in their transience
because you know they are not true.

It is only to the light, to love,
that your face now turns
and that light warms you
and casts rainbows around you,
that enfold you
as Our tender arms also do.

You are free to exist in the simplicity of this,
of this love,
as you are beheld by Our Sun
that is always shining down upon you
so brightly.

It's simply this:
this place of home
inside of Us
where stillness speaks
and love is known,
and where you can simply be,

for that is enough,
it is always enough.

So, here you rest
and simply be
for this is where
your existence
lies,
in the heart
of the Divine.

You have known this love
and taken it into the depths of soul, of heart,
so even as waves may wash
upon the mighty shore of your being
they will not hold, for long,
nor touch
the tender skin
of your soul's softness.

The waves are simply a reminder,
a remembrance,
of what you once have known
and have cleared
from the reality, from the perimeter,
of a soul
who had tasted
the sweet nectar
of the gods
and made their truth her own.

When all the leaves of our experience are shed, 
and even the outer petals
—of what we once thought we were--
are released, 
all that remains 
is the heart of the rose, 
the center 
of love.

Here we rest upon a new shore 
where 
there is nothing more that we have to be. 
This place is void of expectation, 
trying, 
adjusting to an outer world 
where we do not belong
—because that world is not real, its reality not true.

We are quite simple the rose, 
the light that has always been. 
We are that truth inside of us, 
pure and untouched by the terrain we have followed 
and the experience we have known.

We have always been this: 
just the rose 
with those delicate inner petals 
nestled close to the heart 
of our truth 
and the Divine.

There we see 
that life and our spiritual journey 
has never been about becoming—trying to be. 
Our life's true meaning and purpose 
has simply been to release what is not true, 
to cast the petals of falsehood to the wind, 
and there, at last, to rest in our heart
—as our heart--
in the hands of the Divine 
as 
just the rose of our truth 
and inner experience.

There is nothing more 
than this.

Purple lilac fills my spirit,
shapes my soul,
and touches my lips,
offering me to drink from
its delicate sweetness.

In its words,
so filled with love,
there are tinctures of wisdom:
the purples of the spirit
and the lilac of
love's light.

I have tasted this garden,
this heaven scent aroma,
and at its heart
is the clear embrace
of divinity.