The golden light

as birds fly home

sounds their flight

with a constant hum…

To fuel the fire

of our dreams,

as eventide

does become….

The ship on which

our dreams do sail,

engenders love

never to fail…

tis a way

to go back home,

to join our race,

at the throne.

The Mothership..

as she doth roam,

The Mothership,

a home of homes…

where all spirits

meet to share the news,

to end the day

full of muse – ings…

to circle round,

and join in love,

to circle round

and close the gap,

of life and death

of which there’s none.

The light is strong,

tis the way

the energy doth pervade,

our lives….

In many ways

tis always there,

tis in our dreams,

tis in our waking,

and lying down,

we feel the pull,

which knows no bounds.