(This piece of writing came to me whilst I was on the balcony watching the stars (and two shooting stars) and listening to this song after a sleepless night and an exhausting day decluttering my study and trying to make sense out of my life.
I suggest reading this writing following the rhythm of the drums, as you please, letting yourself be carried by the eternal beat of life in its daily earthly rituals that talk to our Soul. Enjoy!)
There is always a place I will somehow call home,
It is somewhere amongst those stars,
I keep on staring at nearly ever night.
And each time I trespass the door of that home,
something makes me feel safe.
Something reminds me,
soothes my frail nerves,
my aching heart,
A Voice whispers...
that I am following a Thread,
a magical Web...
A tortuous River,
woven in many lifetimes,
in many epochs,
far and near...
And each time,
however extremely different the situation is.
finally return to that home,
to that call,
to that unmistakable Whisper.
That formulates its Sense,
in between the Silences,
emerging from primordial Chaos,
bubbling with Divine Order.
Be it under a tree in the city of Velia,
Under the Menhir guarding the Megalithic temples of the Goddess,
Near the well of a mediaeval cloister,
Amongst blossoming night white flowers on the ziggurat,
Or near the Nile watching the Orion rise,
celebrating the blessings of a new New Year.
I always come back to this call,
where my Logic fails,
my Ego surrenders,
as It remembers in its bones,
as a burning mark on the skin,
that pierces the Soul,
and robs away the sleep from the night.
Of a promise,
of a service.
Yet only through Me.
The eternal doubting Me.