Acceptance

The Preamble to Angels

Precious Wonder

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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The Preamble.

As a writer, I once wrote this piece to my niece Arielle. As I see her as an Angel, a part of my heart and that she is my brothers daughter, written with the feeling and love that I have for my family. I feel it is appropriate to share this with you the reader, as it about being born into the world. In maybe many different perspectives seen and unseen and maybe, worlds within words imagined. So, I share this with you as a gift. To see a something, I wrote to my niece, about similar things I desire her to learn at 23 years of age...

About life. Mystery...

The others, that see you...

The pain, the pain was unbelievable. Sweat... was running as streams, down her Mothers face. It was finished. The labour of love, that had only just begun. The nurse, she watched.... do all the necessary things, that professional staff do. In this place, where such things are done. There is a slight worry, that nag her... in the cleaning of her daughter, of all the slick aftermath of her womb. Wiped away delicately in the small sterile, stainless steel infant tub. An acute tension in her, that they have a delicate care for the miracle. That she had just suffered so, to bring into what she knew in her self. Was a sometimes uncertain, fragile world. Like the small precious wriggling of life. Now only all pinkish red wrinkles, looking truly annoyed. To be brought rudely from that place, of utter protection. That only her, as a pregnant Mother had understood. In her womb, her own daughters world of water and a supreme connection, to her heartbeat... shared. With her joined creation.

For a time. In that precondition... to this world!

Where a name had been chosen to grant her, Arielle Justine. A place in this world, to become. Those first few seconds held, like one heart beat. As they laid, her on her Mothers breast. The joy that said, any and all that pain. Was worth anything, for a Mother to have looked. For that forever, first time...

Into her Angels eyes...

Regression... to be taken back. Maybe, in a journey of memory. To a time before the preamble, to hold the story... of what had came before, that event. The sequence, a chain of reality and potential that exist there... a bundle wrapped, in her Mothers arms. Only that, at that moment does a thing long to exist in an eternal essence.

The Angels desire, to go back to that world. Her world of warm water, that engulfing safety. Nurtured...

And now, there is no turning back!

No choice in the matter, and a life unfolds. From a place, that only the new born remembers. At that moment of conception. A life, created. An entire concept is written, into a strand of wonder... that will become, Arielle. Is it a science to be discovered, this DNA that now determines everything about her.

This Angel. The possibilities that now exist, in a created marvel. This wee bit, of heaven... Smiles. :)smile

There are no words to explain this, words do not yet exist. Yet all that is emotion, is ties to that bind and weaves the substance of creation. Into form. The memory of the the spirit soaring through the pattern of The Matrix... a maybe. At some point learnt of memory. Where a choice was made. And, the essence of a soul. Was called, to swim this ethereal myth... a somewhere between. To be imagined. A Kingdoms dream... where Angels sing. The joy of chosen. This maybe, world within worlds. That never end in the continuance, that the form. Will from that point forward. Will forever, have to choose from. Life...

There comes a statement made. That, in that past, a presence. Is left behind. The joy of that place, to be replaced and that after this times journey... The Angel. Must return. This the promise made, and the Maid of Heaven. Understands. The sadness of limitation. To have to leave this world of limitless freedom, that is a constant that sings through her continuance. An omnipresent wonder. That nurtures, an Angelic soul. To leave this abode, is true pain. The separation of which. Can, only be... Imagined.

Small short paragraphs, that are written into Arielle. Known, only to her. Maybe in time. Others may see this, in her. Tease that memory to swim to the surface... call her a Brat. “I'm not a Brat... pretty” she wrote. An Uncle who admires, to post back. 'very pretty'! Maybe, he imagined. What he saw... once.

Writers will do that, it is thier stock and trade. I can only imagine a Mothers pain. I will never experience that... I'm a man. Only that. Simple. One in one. Word, to describe the thing, that I am. Man, the counter point, to woman. The building blocks of life. One this man, this writer can only imagine the joy. That is to be received as that triangle of the fulfillment of procreation attends. The third child. Why, as the Mother and Father, are... children. Children of The Abode. Called, as you where. As, I was...

All these short small paragraphs, that make up world within worlds. The extended marvel, of all the things we behold. In limitless space. Once known. Contained, in a form. We in some form or another

call heaven. A paradise, imagined. A feeling that is tied, to our emotions... that place. Where, we knew.

Love.

The Preamble. Mystery.

I didn't edit this and just cut and pasted it into this, whatever this is. Presentation. Of course there followed the rest of the letter, I composed to Arielle. I'm sure that many things in that piece. You did also recognize, in the discourse. I'm giving, to you. These things in thoughts and feelings, I have integrated into my life after the experiences garnered in the trail that led to the dawning of the Morning Star. You are creating, with me. To share, in the going back to the time in my Path. To re-collect how it came into being. As this is an exersize for me as well. To go around this wheel yet again and understand the essence, of just what. Was presented to me. A testimonial affair and a Mystery. The result of a quest that had me travel many miles. To acquire. The joy and the sometimes suffering, required to... Go there.

In search of The Logic of Primary Reason...

In that piece I wrote, there are as yet no words. Well at this point in this exersize we are going to add in the some words. That came to me, in a dream had in The Mad Mansion on Swan Lake. Again, a placement that isn't static, only to surround the 'Logo Significance'. The representation of the worlds within worlds, and the processes. That wrap around our continuance. A generative form. Given on a journey, in one evening. The evening of my Native Elder Jacob Anderson's passing. Into the next world.

To only transcend, into a 'Greater Realm of Influence'.

“All my relations... Love ya, Jacob”!

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The Woman is Beauty... presence.

Author's Note

The gift of Children.