Be Rave. Templetree
Slowly but surely growing a gentle way,
To flow with the beats & dance through the day,
To hear such sweet music that lights up the soul,
With pulses of bliss driving the consciousness whole.
Such energy dear channels hope for the smile,
For love to be felt amongst loved ones so bright,
For sincere laughing heighty, be young & so free,
So rooted in heart, so bright eyed for the keen.
Such passion for living be found amongst notes,
Of the driving of the giving to the prayer we devote,
For freedom, for dancing, for love of the rave,
& you find yourself glancing, no behave, it's a rave.
Flowe Hearken Wise.
Beauty is in the magic behind what drives our force, not at the superficial glance...
Magic is at the root of our action of love, the fork which from the fire prances,
Understand those who would rather to know, to feel to excel from the source,
Beyond fractious desire, comes desire of the heart, behind which the faeiries grow the wings strong,
Grow songs of the soul, making the mind summon whole the grand picture the moment does grow.
Weeping the willow, shimmers lowly &magnificent, heighty & grandiose, yet so meek,
Seeking the thrill of the edge of the will to know reeking of centre we peak,
Loving so tender, the twists & the turns of life’s wonders & churns the hearts emotions to speak,
Of depths to the soul, those only the ancient will know, once becoming of wisened olde feet.
Keepeth of thee whole, so gentle & bold, so knowing to moment’s dear eye,
For the wing of the sight, comes as dawn from the night, as the story unfolds itself, rise,
Egoless, ne’er to worry, for those who are meant to go thinder, will speak to thee amidst starry dawn,
& the dance of the swans will rise slender & gracious & the swift will be coming along,
Fly thee over meadow soft, high over moor chose the path to the ways of the olds,
& the speech of the whisper, of the spirit of horse rode, thy way hidden in luxurious groves
Of mindful high rise, seeing beyond the skies, from a shimmering waveform of sound,
& the horizons smile, as the ducks laugh & wile away time through the rushes they found.
Wee ducklings so tender, so fruitful, the splendour of waking to eyes of such grace,
For the doors to the fender, the beautiful, the mentor of shaking of bass to the sighs,
Brings heartious meaning of deepest true meaning, the je ne sais crois of the breeze,
& the fathoms of the feeling, of the thrust of true meaning, of the most exuberant breaths as we squeeze,
Such wholeseome hugs of the soul, to be loving, knowing whole, the truth of the gibber ye spoth,
Around &atund & so crucially wound to bring peace to the bounce of the eye.
I love thee, the morning says, do I speak unto the Kingfisher with such sparkle, yes of course,
For the ways of the mountain dew, trickles into the brain as fodder for the choice & the force.
So, go unto the ways of olden tongue my freunden, hark wisened bow hear hugs to the core of oak,
& the green fortifying beams of magnificence, will charge thy way into just letting go with the flow,
Knowing O knowing O knowing O.