Daily Bliss – June 2


The Angels remind us that sometimes the little voices inside are actually those of our lost selves, buried and silenced over the years.  Ignoring them only stokes their restlessness.  What they need now is to be given a voice, as well as the love they never had a chance to experience. 

Spirit Calling

silhouette of pigeon dove holding branch in peace sign shape

Do you hear the voices calling,
Calling, calling?

Can you feel their spirits falling,
Falling, falling?

For the connection with their love is fleeting,
Fleeting, fleeting;

And the time has come to be meeting,
Meeting, meeting

Calling, falling,
Fleeting, meeting
This time is ours to rise

Rising, rising in resistance
Crying, crying with persistence

Our time is now
Our peace is now
Spirit calls us now

©SpiritLed 2017

Voices of Angels

Majestic view of statue of golden angel illuminated by sunlight

Forward thinkers always looking backwards.
Collecting all the news of yesterday
Using it to build their empires
Walls to keep some men out and others
Tucked behind safely in false dichotomies

What is this world where the thinkers close their minds
Make themselves scarce while the rest decay?
What is this world where the bravest of those are put down,
Shunned, or locked away?

When did we stop hearing the voices of angels,
Or trusting that our truth would guide us home?
When did we stop listening?

Though don’t despair, for while many throw bricks
At glass houses hoping for change,
There are those who seek to advance the light
While maintaining the shadows on themselves,
Who walk in utter darkness
So others may know the joy of love’s light on their faces

We may not think we know them,
Though we most likely do,
We simply don’t have eyes open yet to see
Though we can hear, for the blind are often more adept
At picking up the most minute of sounds

We can listen with our hearts,
Listen for the tender mourning of a world
Ready to go home

©SpiritLed 2016

Scattered Pieces of My Soul

Heart of dried petals of tea rose on blue background

As the sun rises again
The scattered pieces of my soul,
Strewn on the winds of time and change,
On waves of great pain and greater loss,

They call to me
Their voices lifting, lilting
Raising in vibration
To the tune of my own song

Calling, calling
Calling me home

And Spirit reaches out
Expands to embrace the rising chorus,
Gathers the lost children making their homes
In other people’s worlds

Raises its mighty wings with the rising light
And gently, tenderly assembles
My scattered, tattered bits,
My worthiness and belonging,

My gratified, satisfied soul,
Returned to perfect wholeness

©SpiritLed 2016