Art, ascension, change, Community, Connection, Intuitive, life, lyrics, Messages, musings, Mystic, philosophy, Poetry, Revolution, Spirit, spirituality

Bi-Son – Tri- Son – Two suns to 3.

There was a Bison.
Who held a tri-sun.
He faced the palm of I, sun.
Against the moon of wisdom.
Would he lie son.
Upon the nigh sun.
Oh I don’t know son.
Yet the TIME is here.
There was this space son.
Upon a face sun.
Yet you would know son.
Thine is the ONE.

Poetry, art, channeled video – Bec Hart.

Art, change, Community, Connection, fun, Incantation, Inner child, Intuitive, life, lyrics, Messages, musings, Mystic, philosophy, Poetry, Revolution, Spirit

THE TIDE, THE TURN.

The wind it moves.
A sacred dance.
A loose structure.
Pure cleansing.
Trance.
The wind holds eyes.
In ancient skies.
Orange – red.
A holy bed.
A resting wake.
A longing tooth.
From foot to eye.
From brick to roof.
Up.
On.
Ancient winds.
The tide shall turn.
Some will win.
Some shall learn.
In both a winner.
No loser.
Insight.
The Earth.
The wind.
Blows wolf.
Away.
Angelic might.
Prophetic.
Delight.

Poetry, video, content – Bec Hart.

Art, change, Community, Connection, fun, Inner child, Intuitive, life, Messages, musings, relationships, Revolution

IS IT TIME….

Will there ever be a time where we can just be ourselves and that be enough.
Where all needs are provided for without having to give into systems, structures, cages, restrictions, doing β€œme” rather than being.
I can’t give into it, this way of work. I’m not a funnel, robotic device that wants to commit my all to serving humanity at the expense of myself.
Service yes! With flow, passion, creativity, a guiding light, no plan yet a purpose provided in each now, each heartbeat, each breath.
My love.
Birthing creativity with imperfection, life force, passion, playfulness.
I yearn the freedom of fire, the dance of the air, the flow of water, the wildness of spirit, the stability of Earth, the sensitivity and strength of the trees and the wealth of metals.
Are my desires too much, too out there, too vast.
Universe where are you as I speak I hear you, why is it you don’t hear me.
Invisible, unseen in a world yet I am true to myself, why is this God.
It feels that way anyway.
Lately I’ve felt alone, all I desired fell through once again.
Relentless.
Painful.
Disheartening.
I’m left with not really much outside of myself, it would seem this way by sight.
All I do witness and have around me I deeply appreciate.
I know there’s no permanence.
I know that I truly am love.
I am myself.
I haven’t left myself in all this chaos.
I’m here.
Breathing, beating, still, moving.
If I have anything I have myself.
That can never be taken away.
I’m still here.
Alive.
A sign.
A sign of life.

Art & Musings – Bec Hart.

Art, ascension, change, Community, Connection, Inner child, Intuitive, life, Messages, MOVEMENT, musings, philosophy, Poetry, relationships, Revolution, Spirit, spirituality

INVISIBLE.

INVISIBLE.

All I have is this moment,
this moment right here.
This moment in which I belong.
I have no answers.
I need no answers.
Point zero.
The colour green.

I heard something earlier.
My body triggered grief.
I took a step out of the moment.
I made conclusions.
My mind raced with evidence to back it up.
I captured breath.
I anchored the moment.
A powerful release.
No judgement.
Pure acceptance.
Free flow.

An interesting revelation.
I know no more.
I know no less.
I need not know.
No judgement.
Pure stillness.
I am in, this moment.
Present in this moment.
This vast space.
Point zero.
Colour green.
In this moment.
I AM.

SILENT SOUND HEALING. https://youtu.be/7F2UjoSvWlc

Art, Poetry & Silent sound – Bec Hart.

Art, ascension, change, Children, Community, Connection, Intuitive, life, musings, philosophy, Poetry, spirituality

EMPTY VASTNESS.

Once again, stripped fully.
Bare bones.
Blood stained lies,
Lying upon the floor.
Where I once stood.
Broken, broken, broken.
DUST.
All known, knowing,
Completely destroyed.
Conditioned illusions.
Delusion – Broken.
BORN?
Born or lost.
Lost nor born.
Stagnant.
Transition – DEEP.
Deep down.
Down into the inner.
Inner.
Core.
An empty vastness.
No longer knowing.
Who we are.
Once more.
Are there ever no layers.
Layers as the sea.
A cool foam forming.
On a startling, bare, boned, breeze.
Will there ever be a time.
Where I, the air.
An inner – outer blanket.
Caressing all.
Yet flowingly vast and free.
Will there ever be life.
Living without restraint.
Born.
Flood.
Free.

Art + poetry – Bec Hart.

addiction, Art, ascension, change, Children, Community, Connection, life, Messages, musings, parenting, philosophy, Poetry, rebirth, relationships, Revolution, spirituality, Trauma, Uncategorized

WHAT IF THEY SEE WHAT WE SEE.

WHAT IF THEY SEE WHAT WE SEE.

Should we hold a guard up.

Chase unavailable men.

Plan our life to perfection.

Re-Write words over and over again.

Should we do a spell check.

Oh wow there, he’s the one.

He’ll fix us inside.

We’ll do everything wrong.

What if they find us out.

We’re not perfect.

Oh, “that is so wrong.”

Here is a label.

Now there is somewhere “we belong.”

How can we prove oneself.

Get some results.

Agree with the masses.

This is real love!

Maybe run from a Partner.

Pretend its not time yet.

I need space.

She can’t see I’m imperfect.

Hey everyone, check out my CV.

It’s dripping in accolades.

Everyone wants part of me.

If they only knew our denied truths.

Dark, squashed deep inside.

They’d run a mile.

We’d be a recluse.

Dear Diary;

I’m digging you out.

The darkness is explosive.

There’s only one way out.

Denial of true essence.

Cannot take it, no more.

We’re not like the Jones’s.

No lies, no more.

We’re not very spiritual.

We get angry and sad.

I thought if I was honest.

I’d be labelled, bad!

Our bodies show stretch marks, cellulite and wobbly bits.

We don’t own a fit bit and frankly don’t give a shit.

There are scars from birth.

“You chose the easy way.”

What a lie that was.

They don’t see this though, hey.

There’s scars on my arms from years gone by.

I mutilated myself for being told I was bad.

The shame ate my insides.

The blame looped the outside lessons.

Old lovers say,

“Oh them, watch them they’re mad!”

They don’t see the destruction.

Of life through a filtered lens.

Just an opportunity to shine.

Cheese, smile, action.

Press send.

Poetry and artwork – Bec Hart.

Art, change, Children, Community, Connection, Death, Intuitive, life, parenting, Poetry, relationships, spirituality, Trauma

FEEL ME HERE.

FEEL ME HERE.

I couldn’t say, “I loved you,”
This was not as I didn’t care.
I loved you with every heartbeat.
At times the beat was barely there.
I switched off my vital feelings.
So I could live – to carry on.
When I passed away.
There weren’t a day,
I haven’t seen you.
Since I’ve been gone.
I know it wasn’t sudden.
Yet you still blame yourself.
Heal your health.
Forgive yourself.
There’s nothing you could have done.
You may not see me here.
You can feel me if you choose.
I love you more than ever.
Some things you never lose.

Art + poetry – Bec Hart.

Messages from spirit.