WELCOME TO WRITINGS IN THE LIGHT. This new section of the magazine will provide a forum for those who would like to share meditations, short channeled writings, poetry or personal stories about being a lightworker. We hope to publish one or two pieces in each issue of PLW magazine. Please send your contributions to tys@planetlightworker.com for possible inclusion in this section.

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ON ANGEL WINGS

The old man removes his worn sandal
careful to step on the cool grass
next to the pebble path
He leans over to slap the dried mud and dung
from the bottom of the sandal
Losing his balance from the weight of his pack
he reaches out automatically
and finds his hand on the rock
that a moment before had been only that
A rock
that now was his savior
for at his age rising from a prone position
was difficult and time consuming
time better spent at mornings waking
After steadying himself he sat
and found the rock more than comforting
He stood slowly and looking at his savior
saw the wear of an eternity
of weary travelers stopping to rest
He sat again and smiled at the perfect fit
of behind to boulder
The grass around the rock was not bare
in the spot where the eternity travelers
might have rested their feet
Looking to the sky
he thanked the Universal Spirit
for the blessing of this gift
and added to his thanks...
“If it is not too much to ask,
Spirit Guides, please lead me this day
to a bed tonight that might fit
this tired old vessel of my soul
as well as this chair that you
have placed here for me?”
After a moments silence the old man looked west
to see a sun that seemed to be moving
much too fast to its resting place.
“Thank you Spirit for your answer
to my prayer, the cool grass by your chair
will comfort me more than any bed
built only for the purpose of sleep.
I am truly blessed in your care.”
That night the old man slept
on angel wings.


SPIRITUAL AWAKENING

The old man wakes to the sound
of a single dove in the tree
that is the canopy above
his bed of sweet grass.
To the east the outline
of the hills show a sky
of disappearing stars.
The sun will wake
the rest of the world soon.
For now the old man feels
that he might have God
to himself for a few more moments.
He rolls to his knees
from his prone position, smoothly,
from years of practice, and
waits for his stiffened joints
to awaken as well.
Then standing slowly,
his breath dancing in front of him,
he reaches to the sky and says....
“Spirit, I greet you assured of
another day blessed by light and love,
guide me on my path and I will follow.”
Reaching to his pack he finds
the dried apricots that are his breakfast
and the remaining crumbs of yesterdays bread
that he throws to the wind
to share with the dove and the earth mother.
“Spirit my weary feet wonder,
how far the journey to the next village?”
And in saying the old man hears first then sees
the mule and cart above the last rise.
As it closes he sees the young boy driving,
no more than 14 smiling the smile
of an ancient soul.
“Grandfather, will you ride with me to the village,
for it seems our journeys are as one?”
The old man, the boy, and God smile.
Once again....
on Angel Wings.


THE JOURNEY'S END

On the edge of the marketplace, in a quiet corner
the old man watched
as the boy sold his harvest for a fair price.
The boy climbed back into his cart
and the mule starts without prodding,
back down the road from which they had just come.
The boy turns searching out the old man.
Their eyes meet.
The boy smiles, bows his head in farewell,
turns back to the road and disappears into the crowd.
The old man has been told that he would meet
the Master here, in this village.
He asks several passersby,
“Where is the Temple? Is the Master there?”
Each of them reply,
“There is no Temple here.”
“Who is this Master that you speak of?”
After some few more attempts and
similar results, the old man walks
back to the edge of the village,
looks back down the road.
The boy is returning with
his mule and cart.
“Have you met with the master?” the boy asks.
“Young friend, I question my journey,
my body is weary and my heart heavy,
for there is no Master here.”
“Grandfather, each of us seeks the end of the journey,
each of us hopes to meet the Living Spirit.
The feet need not move and the Master
lives in the reflecting pool.”
“Grandfather, will you ride with me
for our paths seems to be as one?”
A single, pure white feather, falls from the sky.

© 2003 Chris Reimer

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Chris Reimer is a poet, writer, silversmith, and co-owner of Wisdom Crystals in San Diego, California. He is also a Reiki practitioner and spiritual counselor with a background in alcohol and drug abuse counseling and education. Chris credits Jimmy Santiago Baca, Robert Bly, Richard Brautigan, Judy Reeves and his wife, Carol, with providing the inspiration for his writing.