| Subject: the net |
Author:
Giovanna
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Date Posted: 09:36:07 01/06/03 Mon
In reply to:
Giovanna
's message, "Mythology" on 16:31:57 12/14/02 Sat
Mythologies, the tools of growth and the mirrors of the natural world in story form. The ones who have gone before muse, deeply in rhythm with the forces of change and the chain of events that follow one to the other when universal laws are followed in their twists and turns, as they are wont to do when we make choices based on the heart, the mind and the spirit that moves in waves like doves upon the sea.
So lovingly woven, the tapestry of myths shows nothing of their dovetailing detail, whereby an observer may see the work laid down by the word-smith of that day. All appears to blend like a continuous thread woven into the breath of the windy net, set to catch the stars in the sky, and breath-takingly accurate in the motion of its reach as it stretches into places within the spirit, where even the gatherer of tales has yet to ponder its meaning.
Mythology speaks to us like a father or mother speaks to a son or daughter. They hold us close to the bosom, where we may be able to hear the heart beat of the earth, whispering to us in our own tongue, "it is time, it is time"... thus we are lead, and if we follow we are fortunate sons and daughters, where we are never alone, and never lost but always may we be found within the cup of the plentiful.
Stories of the ancients play with us as we grow old, like youthful children we are ever young within the timeless treasure house where the unending rapture of the priestess points us the way that leads to the next sequence of events drawn from the realizations of our journey with her, as we carry on the path-working, consciously cognizant, developing rhythm between the pillars of extremes.
Mythologies hang in the air, like ornaments on a fragrant tree, dazzling lights that sparkle so upon the braches of the ever green gown of night where Venus plays and where Mars sets all in order for her house.
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