“When human beings were still connected to the Light, the delicate threads that still connect the body to the soul after death could be undone within twenty-four hours or oftentimes even less time. Today, however, and for ages already, the departed souls have to accompany their dead earthly bodies to the burial site and wait there until they are set free”
– Roselis von Sass (The Book of the Last Judgment) The author draws inspiration from “The Grail Message” (In The Light of Truth) by Abd-ru-shin
Holy Thursday And in this frigid hour, when the earth Smells of human dust and is so sad, I want to knock on every door And beg forgiveness of I don’t know whom, And bake bits of fresh bread for him (or her) Here, in the oven of my heart…!
The Fox has the ability to watch and observe while remaining hidden and unseen. Fox symbolizes wisdom, cunning as well as playful energies. Fox symbolism is legendary worldwide for bringing good luck.
Purple veins strain against the skin. Pale, translucent, paper thin. Skinny fingers clawed in monstrous shapes, Brown spots from years that she can’t erase.
Now wrinkled and fragile, weak and sore, So many things she can’t do anymore. Some days she feels she’s been betrayed By the cruelty of her advancing age.
She rubs her hands to ease the ache And recalls the life they helped to make. She looks at them and feels the loss, Living a life bears a very high cost.
These hands that held her children near, That gently dried their salty tears. Hands that held her husband’s tight, That never let go against the fight.
Miraculous hands that protected and soothed. Hands, they conveyed her every mood. Hands so strong they could carry the weight, That would never give up and never forsake.
Those hands that took little but always gave, Hands that applauded each achievement made. Those soft, sweet hands that gently cared, For those sick or lost in dark despair.
Hands that fussed and fumbled that day Her husband gave their daughter away. Those hands holding tight as he slowly died, Caressing his brow as she stood by his side.
Hands that rocked her grandson to sleep, That gladly took over when others grew weak. Hands that once held everyone that she loved, And prayed for strength to our God above.
Hands that were always so willing to give, Hands that reveal a life fully lived. Small, feeble hands, now empty and cold, These hands that each day will keep growing old.
These hands she now tends to hide away, These hands that at times make her feel ashamed. Grotesque and useless in her eyes, They rest in her lap as she quietly cries.
But I see the hands of a hero so true, A woman who survived what this life put her through. A woman whose heart still shimmers like gold, With the hands of a warrior who made her mark on this world.
“Don’t let your sorrows drown you. Use them to deepen you, humble and soften you. Use them to build your empathy and compassion for the world. Your sorrow was never meant to overtake you; like everything else in life, it is only a tool. To beautify and strengthen you.
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