🐝her naked body of the coming fruit

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I’m sorry I can’t write much today, how can I find the words to say how or why you’re the only thing that’s real? I’ve been very taken into another place writing a book about a wild white horse and a lifetime far away from here. I get pulled into this place that seems more interesting to me, more vivid than talking about yoga or liberation. I want it now and I’m tired of talking even though I never shut up and my opinions and explanations abound. I do it all for you, I really do. I believe in you. You may think I don’t know you, not really, I haven’t seen your face but I have. I know every single person by heart who reads my words and I cannot help but think of how like me, you’d probably rather be in a world so far away from here, in another day, in a field of pink and yellow flowers with a wild white horse who brought you to her on the wind, the howling wind that you yourself became- and where words don’t even matter because she’s you -all of you with no more explanations or theories and so lives most of all in the silence between us already perfectly known. And you’re here with me and I want you to come into my story, it’s a long one because like I said, it’s far away from here- 2017 in the make believe glory of a modern made man, no my world is on the other side, ancient and creaking with jewels beneath the floor and voices that speak from out of nowhere. Invisible torrents that carry the torch of light that leads to the subtle surface of the next world and then even deeper into the next world beyond that- where rainbow bridges lead straight up and all you need to do is climb to the top and jump up into the sky, where we might decide to hang for ages- suspended with the wild white horse waiting in the wind to carry us eventually to wherever else we want to go. Waiting for us as we float in the bright sky of her memory- remembering that we are the radiant star bodies who are the record keepers of eternity. But that’s not what the book is about, no new age garble and even though it’s all true, just for you, I won’t go there. It’s about something more solid that I can claim such as our friendship or even a name tag…
and even that’s just because we claimed to be autonomous but really we’re just caught, caught in the wrong place with the wrong face and I think I have a plan to get us out. You know how I love you. I want to bring you this morning of sunlight where I write of a new world through flowers of white where blossoms open with messages that send a stranger version of heaven than we could have ever known…in the sound of bees, the movement of her halo above this blossoming tree, swirling in circles just barely above my head as I take this picture of her naked body of the coming fruit just for you to see how I miss you and I didn’t forget you at all. Bees making sweet life in the form of her crown, she is after all, the queen bee. This honeycomb world that I sit in and think of you and where we might ride on this wild white horse in my story is as sweet as any other lonely day with nothing to do but imagine new worlds. These worlds I should say are not imagined at all, I am simply remembering and writing it down. God has put up signs everywhere in people like you, and I listen and hear your thoughts about me and every dream of sad places unsaid- and you know what, we can go there too- because this wild white horse can have wings if I want her to and we can ride her together because she is very large. She glows and smells like jasmine or blossoms promising fruit and she knows all the ways around any rock or dark cloud. And so all I wanted to say is that I write to you because I know you and even if you don’t like me and you imagine me as a wicked green witch that’s just fine because we’re getting out of this stuck place, off this couch or desk chair forever and we’re going to another world that is so far away from here…but the truth is, it’s not.

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And I’m bringing you the promise of free fruit and flowers bunched up into bouquets everywhere you turn. I’m handing my heart to you in the bees and the throne where she plays like a tree. I’m bringing you long rides into the cool of night upon a white horse with wings as wide as an airplane and I’m bringing my love to you in the wind as the sound of your breath. Don’t struggle anymore, come to me so far inside and just outside of your eyelids too. Come to me as the sparkling dust falling from the ceiling to the floor in your room. Come to me as the sun setting beyond the mountain you once called home. Come to me as a memory of soft car fur upon your skin, as the sound of purring with no words attached. Oh how beautiful you are. Come to me as the dying pillow who has no head to hold. Come to me as anything you are and become the love I cherish.
I could be anywhere thinking of you and what I want to say through images described in my letters in a language so crude and obsolete it’s crushing and yet, however, this love reaches far and wide and the heart is a vast open space with a wild white horse living inside and I promise I’m writing it all down for the world to remember us when they’re sad and they find the book that says “read me” and they open it up and they find you as I found you in verse after verse, smiling and crying and making me move mountains and dark heavy things. Yes we broke through and thanks to someone like you we could be free. I read your thoughts and made these words and together we left the places that meant nothing, that couldn’t ever be described as better than before and you reminded me and we went there and it was all true, everything you ever thought that reminded me of that place so long ago and so far away…and I just knew it was you reminding me of that strangest heaven, like a magical mushroom trip from out of this world where I sat on your back and we rode into the wind, upon the wind into colors of rainbows and into sounds of harps that no one could see. We never needed to see anything but each other and so you can still think I don’t know you- but oh, yes I do. I’m writing a story all about you and not one of us will ever be lonely or broken by a saddle or a man with a whip or spurs on his boots again. We ride the howling wind and we go wherever we want. This isn’t my dream. This is my memory of you and the way that I describe the places you take me. The wild white horse is as real as the floor that I look at and watch the sun dancing in circles around my deaf dog who doesn’t hear anything but the jangle of my heart inside her peach colored soul. Oh yes, we wear colors. All of us do. And the color of you is the color of the sky inside the new world that I’m writing about just for you, to remind you of me. The silver sky raining stars is exactly how I saw you, and I, as the violet ray bringing diamonds through moon shadows was the one that you held, closest to your heart in the form of everything sacred- where we found her as simply the pebbles inside the stream of it all…I told you I know you and I’m writing it all down just because you might not believe me or you might just think how far we’ve come is enough- or you could wonder why we had to ever leave. But I found a way to get back and I’m writing it all down in a secret way so that only those who have been there before can return. We don’t let outsiders in, we don’t need anymore cities we only need blossoming trees and silver skies against her body and the sound of your eyes forever, violet ray. The wild white horse is real because I found her and now I’m just looking for the right words to say how much you mean…

beyond words. Sharada Devi 🐝

15 thoughts on “🐝her naked body of the coming fruit”

  1. Your words words
    pretty sounds of forever
    But they’re now and don’t you know
    don”t you know it’s not enough
    To hold him is to hold onto broken glass
    Shards that dig in
    flesh that IS NOT ENOUGH
    Something more is demanded here
    You cannot get to the heart of the matter
    without a little blood splatter
    Stop sitting pretty
    Adjusting your top
    I have seen through the open blinds
    the pulled back sheet
    and the car door held open
    LET GO
    There is no god
    And I have fought hard to decapitalize
    But take heart open sore
    Your peroxide and bandages are waiting
    outside my open door

    1. You’re funny I always love you.
      And I get that you don’t believe in god,
      as a horse or even yourself with a ❤️
      and I can’t say I blame you,
      but what’s with fighting hard to “decapitalize?” that seems a bit heady-
      unless you meant decapitate but alas,
      we know that couldn’t be good- you head
      tripping sweetheart, taking everything at
      face value even your own head DECAPITALIZED!
      Haha. You’re a good funny force of nature
      and it sounds like if I ever need an ambulance driven by a guy who can’t spell or a guy who obviously loves watching me on screen being my immaculate self,
      then you’re the one for me…and where
      is your front door? I bet you’re wearing all black too aren’t you? I hope you don’t have those horrible big holes in your ears or a nasty tongue ring. Do you draw skulls when mom forgets the syrup for your pancakes? I bet you do and you wear headphones and listen to the Cure. You’re so adorable!
      Thank you sweet hardcore, I would have fought hard to decapitalize too (just for you) but I don’t have time right now, I’m too busy drawing flowers and unicorns for tomorrow’s ride to God in rainbow heaven 🦄✨💫 and a big bad 💀just for you❤️!

      1. Yes and yes. All of the above. Can you see me through that screen? Weird. But you seem upset and I didn’t mean to offend. You seem to matter to a lot of beautiful people and how great is that? I hope you find your way to heaven. You sure have weasled your way into my heart.

        p.s. It was a hard fight. My phone kept trying to capitalize that g. Who’s in charge of this auto correct thing anyways?

        1. Funny again!!! Hahaha!!! I’m not ever upset- just looking for a rise- you’ve got the spirit! I’ve found my way to heaven- haven’t you heard? Beautiful people and weasels that wiggle into hearts, I like that!☀️

          auto correct- I don’t think it’s god…

  2. Hush and hush
    i am on a velvet cloud
    i dare not speak my internal ramblings aloud
    who am I
    i do not know
    was busted by a late night show
    thought i was alone
    but what did i know
    who is ‘I ‘ any way?
    deep treacherous rambling
    gamboling on to nowhere
    or is it awake alive steeps and leaps
    i don’t know what is real anyway
    just other midnight wonderings
    spying things in the morning dew light
    i do not remember from
    whence it came
    my husband
    says that i am crazy
    but i think
    in the darkness
    of not knowing
    i am my true self

    1. everything you believe in
      is real✨
      blue lights in the kitchen
      a phantom under your bed
      a rose bush in your living room
      a teardrop in your head…

      all depends on whose getting fed…
      tVS bleed late at night is all I know…

      1. I like that,” a rose bush in my living room ”
        🌹
        Sometimes these words come out of me
        like a ghost writer has taken over
        kind of a fugue state pouring out
        at late hours without my being aware.
        (it was a dvd not a tv show – but that is how the words poured out)
        After “I” fell asleep, I dreamt about dreaming. A dream inside a dream.
        🌹
        You posted exquisite photos of spring blossoms. I love the beauty of spring, but it sure plays a number on me. I have been sneezing for days and my eyes won’t stop itching. Ah nature…aaachooo!!!
        Going in to the kitchen now to see if the light is blue…

        1. I know, I wish I had a rose bush in my living room! Thanks I took those pics myself…🌸 under the blue light cooking up a storm…

          1. i thought as much … pic wise… looks like you are living in paradise.
            Can’t wait to see your river-side abode beneath the canopy of trees
            sun bright, blue light and starry night.

          2. it’s beautiful and very pure here- I think from everywhere we’ve ever been (and that’s everywhere pretty much) northern CA-above humboldt county into southern Oregon is the most sublime of all places- the drive from Redding to the coast is exquisite winding rivers and it’s extremely majestic and where we are is so divine- the mountains rivers and big trees- its breathtaking- and it’s still quite untouched by the modern world- as best as we could do- and it’s really very healing and soothing and oregon is the most peaceful place with all the prana and Ojas from the water and greenery- and unlike the rest of Oregon, southern Oregon is sunny most of the year. So it’s the best and mount shasta is about 70 miles south and it’s truly a mystical place where magic happens…

    1. ✨believers are blessed
      by butterflies that land
      on hoods of cars
      and sleeves of blue☄️
      it’s you, always you
      coming true❤️

  3. It sounds so perfect and pristine. Of all the places that I have ever been, the most sacred and holy
    were amongst woods near flowing water. And yes Humboldt and So. Oregon are amazingly spectacular.
    It’s been awhile since I was last up there being one with that space in it’s embrace of splendor.
    Thank you for the blessing and gift of inviting us there to share the bounty of goodness.
    Some of the words that you just used, i picked up on –
    from a poem that my Brother wrote for me years ago –
    He is un-stuck in time you know… He wrote:
    “For my sister M****,
    Peace in time will be sublime”

  4. Funny I was listening to Cat Steven’s song, The Wind, the other day, and the part that says “I’ve sat upon the setting sun, but I never wanted water once…” made me think of you and what you offer here, where it’s springtime and you are the wind filling in the hollow spaces with seeds of eternity…and you can play in the fire and not get burned or tarnished and some might resent you for it if they did not love you so…

    1. Thank you beloved swan saraswati who glides upon heart waters and sings a song too perfect to even hear out loud…exquisite orchids out of eyes reach and hollow white shells left alone on the empty beach just for god…that’s you. Simply divine.

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