Art, Community, Connection, God, Intuitive, poet, Poetry, Source

WAVES OF SEA FOAM BLUE.

WAVES OF SEA FOAM BLUE.

Of flow,
Of form,
The force,
Of fire,
The elements can take you higher,
Allow the ground to permeate your core,
Breathe in the life,
love deep,
Some more.
Light lit up,
Switch turned on.
Life exhalts a golden throne.
The beast dissolves.
Omnipresent.
Opalescent.
Sacral warm.
Soar in, to tune higher.

๐Ÿ’œ๐Ÿ’› Helen Rebecca Hart ๐Ÿ’›๐Ÿ’œ

Art, ascension, change, Children, Christ, Community, Connection, God, love, Messages, poet, Poetry, spirituality

THE HAND.

THE HAND.

They didnt treat her well so she became
a better person.
They didnt approve of her
so she tried to prove herself.
They blamed her, so she took on
all responsibility.
He didnt answer, so she could not let go.
Thinking, dwelling, convinced she could not meet you, your needs, herself, anyone, anything.
Was she flawed.
Was she too closed, open, wounded – so she changed and changed and changed.
Yet nothing changed.
Other than the shattering of time.

All this.

For a while it made her too soft, too hard, everything and nothing at all.
Not knowing what was wrong with her.
Broken beyond perhaps.
Cursed.
Maybe she wasn’t loveable.
Maybe she didn’t deserve love.

She couldn’t even weep any longer.
Tears dried up.
Like a sponge sitting on a shelf for all eternity.
Yet no thing worked.
She most definitely tried.
It was like trying to wash with no water.
Expecting to be clean.

It was never her pain, challenge or task to bear.
Yet she couldn’t see.
She held herself, body limp, no strength left to try.
Something awakened her to the truth.
A clear sign.
She poured deeply into her very own cup and vowed never to abandon herself ever again.

A miracle she is, was and always had been.
Strength pouring through her veins.
That was when life changed.
For she knew she was the one.
This could never and would never ever be taken away.
Even in death.
Eternal light.
Eternal love.
Breath.
Life.

Written by Helen Rebecca Hart.

Art, Connection, God, life, love, Messages, musings, philosophy, poet, Poetry, presence, realisation, Source

COMING TOGETHER, COMING APART.

COMING TOGETHER, COMING APART.

Do you truly accept me as all I am in each ever changing moment.
Can you flow with the fields of grace as the tides rise.
Can you sit back and allow rather than fix, flea or fault find.
Can you help me, truly help me by helping yourself.
Can you accept all of me without judging the parts that seem more appealing.
Can my perceived flaws become a home to your sweet, compassionate smile.
Can you work with me and flow like a river and maybe be still as ice in winter, eye to eye, gazing into our souls as one breath to one eye.
Can you accept that I want all of you, not just certain parts.
Can you accept that I’ve met your darkness with an open heart.
Can you accept that I will never be perfect and cannot fullfill your insatiable needs.
I shall not feed them either though as love needs breath and your needs within your heed.
Can we work together apart.
Can we create something new.
For what I’ve seen of love in movies, is not love but an adornment in which this love is lost.
I truly, deeply, feel and see all of you.
It will never come at a cost.
For I found eye when I was lost.

Written by Helen Rebecca Hart.

change, Christ, Community, God, life, love, Mystic, poet, Poetry, purpose, Source

STILL TO SEA SEE.

STILL TO SEA SEE.

In this moment I realise we’re free.
Free from yesterday.
Free from tomorrow.
Free from being more, doing more, having more.
Free from attaching to something external to bring about false hope, light and happiness.
Free from denial.
Free from chains.
Free from the prison of the mind.
If not free there.
Free now.
Breathe.
Cool inner.
Hot outer.
Space inbetween.
Breathe.
Now.
Here.
Now.
Here.
There.
Becomes.
Now.
Here.

Written by Helen Rebecca Hart.

Art, ascension, change, poet, Poetry, purpose, rebirth, Source

FIRST I MUST BREAK.

FIRST I MUST BREAK.

Thereโ€™s a mighty roar of oceans.
Oceans that want to reach out and pour.
A mighty roar of oceans.
That want to breathe life once more.
Thereโ€™s a new beginning.
Stripped bare from what was before.
As I shed my hair.
In to the wind.
Leave the one behind.
Who once was.
She doesn’t fit in.
No in the concept of herself.
No more.
A need to move forward.
Or upward.
The old had no more room to grow.
No place to go.
The silence too still.
No will can take this lake.
A touch to talk.
One word may breathe, breath, walk.
First I need to break.
To feel the wind within.
The willows bloom breath.
The heart breathes gold dust.
To dance as the field.
Without a care for more.

Poem – Helen Rebecca Hart.