The Realistic Mystic

She knows not what she does she only feels and can respond within the surrender of her memory from so long ago. She writes and writes so as to remember her love from so long ago. She cries when she feels alone and she rejoices when she is one again with the ones that brought her back home. She lives for this time in the early sunrise when all are sleeping but those who rise from the stone of their hearts and glisten on the beaches that release her souls completely. She works tirelessly to bring the love onto the shores of man. She knows not what else to do so she has her grand plan and works like a woman on fire with divinity that lies in the palms of her hands. ©2010 Lisa A. Blackman