My Journey with My Sky Beacon

I followed that star.
Its light shown down through the night -
warm sands beneath me.

A hilly landscape,
seen in the silent distance,
softly welcomed me.

A place I shall call
“ineffable solitude”
swirled all around me.

“Where are you going,
my exquisite sky beacon
and shall I follow?”

I asked once again.
Its starlight seemed uncertain
trembling on its path.

I saw a white glow -
just a sliver of a moon
in a sky’s pocket.

Twilight descended.
I paused and sat a moment.
It ALL pulled me in.

The sands were shifting.
Showers of cherry blossoms?
A marvelous sight!

The tree stood upright.
A desert Cherry Blossom?
“What has brought you here?”

“That star you follow.
You need only remember.
Where you are - I Am.”

I smiled - remembered.
The Cherry Blossoms glistened,
lit up by New Light.

I heard its whisper.
I saw it slowly rising -
my hilly landscape.

Higher and higher -
its form, shifting, called to me.
Above, my sky beacon.

“Am I to climb this
shifting structure made of sand?
How does one begin?”

My sky beacon heard.
“Jump in! See where it leads you.”
Its light spoke to me.

I hesitated.
“I am so in fear of this!”
Its light warmed to me.

Hope and Desire.
I heard them call out to me.
“Amen!” I jumped in.

Exquisitely resembling me in Oahu all alone the constellation spelled out imminent eternal danger that the creation will just collapse into the wager’s judgement crying out in solitary pain as if only one existed to attest the other, and as the galaxy formed into mushroom shapes, the three asians become embroiled, but then the frogs started to chatter and the hell ouppies did not advance from the back guessing intentions mean more everything, so that night knowing Khrishnamurti will pass soon , which did he after soon.

Don’t give up on us, to decode

lol I thought that my poem was pretty obvious really.
But then again, there are times when I myself am not sure just where my words come from or how they even come to me but oh how I love the journey from beginning to end.

A dynamic journey would actually be a good way to describe that one.

Styles differ, there is a lot of hidden reality in the abstract. and Vic’s Vera’s hidden abstractions in reality so who is to say for sure, the point I was alluding to is the resonating natural firmatiinwhich preempt the fast approaching differences.