Weavings From Laurel Cottage

Where was beginning?
What birth or dawn was sculpted from our memories
Our quests, our marveling, our learning
Our words of understanding, again and again
one to another
In this long, bright way of knowing?

I came in a deep, dark pouring rain
Found a light in the window and a door
That opened from within

Shining spirits shone into my open hands
More radiant than the rainbowed rain
From the corners of the earth’s spinning sphere
They brought the sounds of an Allelujia Chorus
And the smell of the baking bread of heaven
pan de cielo, they said

And so, I sat down behind my loom of light
In Lemuria’s Laurel Cottage
I began to weave . . . .

I now open chests of cedarwood, taking from between
Layers of lavender and lace
Those bright pieces of hand spun wonderings
I shake them out, lay them out
And begin to see the patterns . . .
Patterns Of Mysteries beginning

The Mysteries of Beginning . . .
The Beginning of Mysteries . . .



And so I begin to bring them here and begin to hang them on the walls, these ancient weavings that touch upon the enchantment, the magic that is Lemuria. I told the Cantadora, “People think that the Lemurian’s are inside Mount Shasta.” “No!” she replied, “they are inside of the Soul Food Café!” She is wise, that Cantadora.

And I, begin to cover the cold, stone walls with the warmth of these tapestries. Watch to see if patterns emerge.


Winnie,
Lemurian Poet