She Who Watches - She Who Waits - She Who Listens - She Who Speaks

Blanche McLanahan [ehcnald at yahoo.com]


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Eternity's Garden


We are only locked here for a brief moment in time. It is beyond the momentous inertia we break out of this barrier and succumb in the light of eternity. Ours is in time of imbalance which has forced a reality built on the negatives, as apposed to the positive attributes. We are the mass and in the energy diffusing the space we occupy there must be equality of the give and take.

Thereby the light of love extinguishes the darkness and the cancellation ends time's dogma forcing an adaptation.

Evolution so defines the inequality of our space and place n time. We collect the dust of the years, documenting the transitions through which mankind grows. Our artifact in the rubble are descript, as the architecture through the ages does define. It is in the moment we mark the day, the year and the shadows induced by the light concealing truth in the dark and empty spaces of the mind. There is a point on the line where our signatures can transcribe the words to cancel the variables that reflect time, and all it has forced we endure.

Eternity rides in streams, flowing amidst ones thoughts without harsh impact. Here the peace and stillness overwhelms time's stress and pressure and the relentless fear. Death does not find the end, rather the beginning of a place without time. A place where the density of matter does not reign as King, nor does it conceal the true light in shadows begging recognition. In this place none of these things exist and pure thought permeates through borders once construct of limitation.

Once here the gentle nature of Love builds a temple of gold and the streets lead to the door of every man's heart. It is here in the
time without evolution we know what we truly are, that which we have only failed to see.

Man is a creature of thought whose mind must have the heart at the helm.
Time and genetic impact shall know that true wealth, happiness and health of the species is paramount, herein this garden where streams converge, flowing with loving thought, where they finally come to rest in this place. A place in the garden of our minds so man can finally realize the truth was in his heart to speak for his mind all along the way through time.

- Blanche McLanahan


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Copyright 2007 - Blanche McLanahan
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