The next morning
I woke up feeling bruised
I went back to sleep.
Something woke me again
A dove which landed on the roof above me.
I heard the flutter like the wings of angels.
The song like the cries of a child.
Birds always seem to carry messages on their shoulders.
Atlas with the sky on his yolk.
This one came from the higher self.
The priestess of my soul.
From the source energy.
I cried upon realising this Oman.
I cannot carry on in such a way
Neither of us could.
To flood myself with energy will only kill me sooner.
He did not know everything, and nor did I.
We are only human,
We are different, but the same in so many ways.
High self sees this effort,
And she bestows pride for it,
But she cannot allow it to go on.
We will both curb out in this chaos.
We cannot carry on in a state of grief,
With grief present, love cannot exist.