The Alchemy of the Soul - Saint Marina and the Elements Within

Image
  July 17th. The hour before sunrise. Dawn breaks slowly, with that peculiar, bluish coolness that feels as though it does not descend from the sky, but rather emerges from the earth itself. In this brief fissure between night and day, the world appears incomplete, a creation rewriting itself from scratch. On the table before me, a cup of tea grows cold, its steam coiling lazily in the half-light - a small, helpless fire dissolving into the morning air. Today is July 17th. The day of Saint Marina the Great Martyr. There are dates in our calendar that are not merely chronological markers, but true psychological and spiritual thresholds . They pull us back toward an ancient perception of existence - a time when humans were not detached observers of nature, but active participants in its mystery. Back then, the elements were not external objects to be analyzed or raw materials to be exploited; they were living languages through which the soul conversed with the cosmos. The earth was ...

Alone

 


Alone in my captivity, lost in despair,
I wander, dragging my garments in air.
The weight of it all, crushing me down,
In myself, time's stopped, in silence I drown.
In timeless childhood, stolen breath by breath,
In soulful fields, where I take flight in death.
I soar and return, fueled by desire,
In dreams awakened, here I lie, a crier.
I've lost myself in my realm's dominion,
In ceaseless seeking, my relentless opinion.
Day and night blend in their passionless fight,
For my smile to bring peaceful light.
But peace in the burden, aching and sore,
A sickness from war's loads, my being tore.
Where did I lose myself, once content and calm?
In heaven's embrace, I gave up my qualm.
The birth of rain in love's tender spell,
I hide from it, run and dwell.
For it, I divide myself untroubled,
In its magic, my heart's bubbles.
The dawn of morning's feeling's here,
I return, love, seeing me clear.
I am her reflection, and she'll see me tomorrow,
I move the pieces of myself in my sorrow.
Locked, shut, torn apart and divided,
Forgotten, discarded, torn and derided.
Alone and weeping, powerless, still,
Torn apart, hopeless, with hope killed.
Will I find myself again, I wonder?
To connect my disjointed pieces and ponder.
I'll make my move and win this game,
In boundless unity, I'll know my name.
The only feeling is pain, I breathe it deep,
Accepting it, in its mission I leap.
Tasting it, feeling it, I am it, I love it,
I give birth to it, in my seeking, I covet.
Overflowing, intertwining, enclosing, I ache,
Unraveling, separating, in pouring, I wake.
From myself to myself, let it happen, I'm eternal,
In remembrance, discovered, loved, I'm internal.
Blind in seeing, in sensations, I age,
In whispers of soft words, I engage.
I commit ceaselessly to my finding, I reign,
And here, on eternity's doorstep, I'll gain.
Love, in timelessness, clad in its attire,
Wordless, silent, speaks to me in mire.
Hopelessness, impossibility, swiftly embrace,
Forgotten, alone, in soul's understanding's grace.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Болестта като пътепоказател на душата

July Blossoms - Discover the Newest Books on Flower Essences and Homeopathy on Amazon

Toward an Authentic Future

Contact Form

Name

Email *

Message *