Highest Love Waits

Sometimes things need to simmer,

And brew…

If we stir the pot too early,

The flavors will never intermingle,

To create something rich, complex and new.

We are taught to get on with things,

Moving further and flying higher,

Needing to seek the stars, 

And touch the moon,

Before broken wings heal.

We say, there’s no time for gleaning meaning,

Or for feelings reconsidered…

But can time truly fly by?

Or is time an illusionary condition,

Superseded by Higher love’s

Absolute vision?

This love akin to an invisible

Siamese twin, that belongs to us,

And waits on us alone,

Contentedly inseparable from our side,

Even if eternity itself got up,

And sped right by.

 

-Gilda Patricia

 

 

 

Love’s True Precision

We think “Divine love for all,”

Sounds generic and bland,

Not nearly special or unique.

But this is far from the truth,

Of God’s plan.

God knows us each personally,

Every heart string counts.

He travels to those hidden spaces inside,

Revealing our hope, desires and wishes…

Then echoes them right back, “no strings attached.”

Nothing is impossible,

Or out of reach…for God,

The most loving “Soul Doctor,”

Providing love for us, so precise and true,

A perfect match.

 

-Gilda Patricia

 

 

Rattling the Status Quo

The underdog, the outsider, the strong-willed,

The misunderstood, the introspective, the passionate,

The addicted, those living “on the spectrum,”

The left out, the left behind, or passed over,

The undiscovered and undefined,

The way-pavers and way showers,

The rule breakers and troublemakers,

The hard to please and hard to know,

The uncontainable and untrainable…

 

Shaking things up,

Preventing stagnation,

Rattling all the caged bones,

Keeping dust from settling on miscued priorities…

Their deep wounds keeping open or reopening,

Compassionate spaces in our hearts,

Stopping them from locking up,

Or rusting over from non-use,

And from everyday robotic living.

 

So rattle our cages,

Test our hearts,

Threaten our unquestioned days,

And complacent nights,

Push the element to expand our notion,

And vision of what it means,

To be human,

Our reason for being and

Our final destination…

 

For a spiritually sick, spiritually lacking world,

Cannot survive “status quo,” for long,

Thank God for the outcasts and misfits,

Who at the very least, get us thinking…

Perhaps the problems in the world,

Not their doing, but evidence,

Of one spiritually un-evolved and

Malnourished “Human Body“…

Filled with judgements and such.

 

Our world, perhaps in need of one big,

Group hug?

 

Gilda Patricia

Death’s Illusion

Waiting for the shoe to drop,

The ax to fall,

Walking on egg shells,

In tentative anticipation.

Can I see the door yet?

Hear deaths call?

Loved ones may die today,

Tomorrow or next?

Misfortune written,

In humanity’s script,

With permanent indelible ink.

Many faiths believing,

The day, minute,

And final hour preset,

In immovable stone.

What a heavy cross to bear!

 

So how is it,

We sometimes see people who,

Involuntarily laugh at a funeral,

Smile through tears,

Continue loving,

When they know…

All will be lost,

In a moment’s time.

Perhaps eternal soul knows,

Something more?

 

-Gilda Patricia