Pangeia


 

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/planet/

 

This is a story-form prose-poem that came to me last night. As with many fellow writers many strange languages come to one in the period between wakefulness and full on sleep.  I have no idea whence this tale is going for it emerged from my inner being.  Enjoy and feel free to comment.

Pangaea_KarlE_Limper Geology Museum

PANGEIA

Pangaea

In the days before the great flood underground tributaries flowed and rose upwards to hydrate the land.  Where no underground tributaries existed rivers voluntarily overflowed their banks irrigating the adjacent crops.

Mother Pangaea graciously gave of her bounty feeding humans, animals, insects and sea creatures alike. None wasted. None were left wanting. None struggled. All bellies of sentient beings were filled.

A type of breadfruit grew plentifully from the overhanging trees. Villagers only had to reach out their bedroom windows or gather the golden ripe fruits which fell upon the ground at dawn to prepare healthy breakfast, mid-morning and lunches for the populace.

During this time of Pangaea all land masses were one joined together by straits, jetties and naturally born earth bridges. Gaia Earth Mother was a prodigious mosaic quilt of interwoven textile prints.

Persons who at this time were known as Ninth Dimension Changelings wore colorful garments of scintillating fabrics which gleamed in the Lunar Sun.

Pangaea_Continental Drift

Their skins were of a royal purple hue.  Ninth Dimension changelings’ distinctive characteristics were extremely long lavender eyelashes with feather extensions from the corner of each eye.  The color of the eye plumes varied among their tribes, shade designating their family coat of arms. Some 9th dimension changelings had tiny diamond third eyes above and below their natural visual orbs.  The eye feathers served dual purposes of adornment and transport.  Diamond, ruby, pearl, amethyst, and other gemmed 3rd eyes assisted in communication with fellow tribal changelings as well as those from other alternate universes. These implanted jewels were internal and external translation devices enabling ninth universe beings to understand and be understood throughout the celestial Diaspora. Shamans and priestesses had golden hued skins with clusters of many color jewels over their right eye or to the side of the left eye.  The High Priestess had the additional

Embellishments of semiprecious stones and crystals embedded into her chest region in addition to extra fine purple and blue feathers extended from her top and lower eyelids.  All Her majestic emissaries had spiraling, thick curly multi-colored hair that extended in an outward spherical motion from the heads.  Sacred inscriptions covered their backs, abdomens, arms and legs.

Being Ninth Dimension beings from a higher more realized realm all are Empaths & Telepaths.  Meaning they can sense the feelings, emotions, & thoughts of others then decide whether to communicate via spoken or unspoken languages.  Coming from a highly developed civilization they have the ability to heal others simply by sending healing and the ability to regenerate themselves of any illness or disability that may befall them.

They have the capability to travel through time and space either bodily or sending their doppelganger depending on the mission and circumstance.

They keep cats as pets.  MultiColored Bright Neon Cats.  The cats also have feathered tufts sprouting from their whiskers, ears, and eye lashes.

Suddenly the eccentric became a Banner of nonconformity and non-convention ready to spread Her gospel of healing across the pond if not the land.  Now anointed Shamans in the ecclesiastical of the peculiar.

Ritual, rites, ceremony and sacrament bestowed absolution; gave order to Her chaotic life.

Three SiStar Ninth Dimension Changelings: Pangeia, Merlina, and Samsara.

Valley flowers arose from the dewy mysts producing the most delectable scents and fragrances. Three of the most scrumptious Valley Flowers were the SiStar Changelings Pangeia, Merlina, and Samsara. SiStar Pangeia sprang straight from the heart of Mother Pangaea, Merlina was conceived via magic, and Samsara was the gift of the eternities.

Often they danced the Labyrinth, seeding the fields playfully chanting,

“Three Girls. Bouncy curls. Girlhood wanes so quickly. Raven, Red and Golden Brown.”

Daughter Pangeia gently pushed forward her winged Pegasus Unicorn Mare who with a gentle whinny and shake of her magnificent mane slowly lifted upwards allowing Daughter Pangeia to survey local territories and city-states in preparation for the eight year Mandala pilgrimage. The pilgrimage allowed all the inhabitants of Pangaea to co-exist in peace for epochs.  In the eighth year of harvest season townsfolk and villagers traveled great distances to gather at Mandala to dance the Labyrinth and to give Thanks to the Goddess for her limitless bounty.

One day whilst Daughter Pangeia was scanning the land for a suitable place to hold the Mandala celebratory ceremony a huge comet felled the skies striking one large river making it two. River good. River evil. River evil was an optic delusion designed to lure unsuspecting travelers with the appearance of clear crystal lakes suitable to drink from but turned out to be quicksand bogs causing many lost lives.

This greatly troubled Daughter Pangeia. She immediately flew to the mountain chambers where she and her SiStars resided for council.

After relating all that she had observed Daughter Pangeia sat together in the established Divine Cosmic Circle held hands during which Samsara communed with the spirit worlds receiving instruction.

Samsara

“Once I was baptized by hieroglyphics and clear cave markings. Mother Pangaea tattoos now imprinted on feeble minds. Blood red raindrops on wet sand. Sulphur burn odor twitched many sensitive nostrils.  Many incarnations are we! Many incarnations are we!  We make our homes Divine Temples.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Sleeping Gypsy

Dunes of the Sahara


Dead Can Dance – The Host of Seraphim

https://youtu.be/ZxK_an_tysc

I must return to the Savannahs of the Motherland from whence I was birthed eons ago.

Big cats all around me.

Sleep easy.

Sleep easy.

Bones buried in sand dunes.

Spirit soars.

The Sleeping Gypsy
Henri Rousseau ~~ The Sleeping Gypsy

20150702_134640

Nzingha African Warrior Queen

Jump Sankofa Kindred????????


Jump Sankofa Kindred????????

Sankofa Bird
Sankofa Bird

If I Jump back into time. Jump the broom back Mother Africa who will I find? And why do the ancestors call my name?

Though I’m separated from the Motherland for over 200 years there is that spiritual umbilical cord that binds me to Mother Africa. A Mother always cries for her lost children.

Was I being and speaking Yoruba, Igbo, Bantu, Akan, Twi, Tsonga, Nyungwe, Ronga, Ngoni, Chopi, Tonga, Ndau, Tswa, Swahili, Makhuwa, Sena?

In a distant time was I Nzinga Mbande Warrior Monarch of the Mbundu people? How many souls are in my spirit and what bloods run through my veins?

Perhaps my ancestors have chosen me their earthly Sankofa bird to reach back and pull their souls from suffering and oblivion. They are saying, “Remember us!” Redeem us Dear Sister that our deaths were not in vain. Their voices cry out to me from the depths of the oceans. Their spilled consecrated blood from hallowed ground. Yes I hear your cries sacred ones and deliverance is on the way.
Pilgrimage is nigh on Sankofa bird wings Oh land of my ancestors!

Sankofa Bird
Sankofa Bird

Seed


Seed

She put her hand to the Stone……………………

She put her hand to the Stone and a million millennia of memories coursed through her soul and out from her pores.

She put her hand to every boulder and heard the rocks cry out their praise to Our Creator.

She put her hand to the magnificent Oak Tree and received the voices of streams, rivers, oceans, lakes and streams.

Woman Tree
Woman Tree

She put her hand inside Gaia Mother Earth and heard the calls of sacrifices, bog dwellers, cave peoples, the cries of those murdered all crying out for justice.

She extended her hands within the forest absorbed the singings of creatures past and present reverberating within her spirit. Her fingers touched the voices of cave dwellers imbuing their drawings with Life. And in the fullness of time vibrations echoed through the eons.

She put her hand upon the Rock of Ages and they extended their hands inside her inner being enveloping her with knowledge, wisdom and understanding.

What Are The Akashic Records & How to Access the Akashic Records

 http://youtu.be/SojN1E79jG0

The Workers Leave No Footprints


Dreams Never Die

Misty Foggy Morn

Youth said “Dreams Never Die.” Twenty years passed then Recession kicked in. New Realities were born. Twelve hour workdays became the norm.

Like a drowning man Dreams surfaced again and again only to plummet down to the watery deep. All the while knocking at 1% door watching them through one-sided window laugh, play, drink and party with no thought for the ‘Morrow’. We the unseen only imagining free time for our dreams.

Dreams that must wait until Social Security beckons if death does not reach us first. Fore bread, water, warm clothes and a place to live cry louder. Goodnight Sweet Dreams. May you one day resurrect to a New Dawn.

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

The Working Poor Leave No Footprints

Surrounded by a plethora of people who seemed to surface like bloated corpses after spring thaw.  Worker bees we are all meaningless specks of dust being recklessly scattered by blustery winds.  Modern day Robber Barons throw battle weary soldiers back into the battle while they sit sipping tea in Ivory Towers.  Thirty-seven years a professional, now placating rot breath Sabbath suits long in tooth, visions of Mammy dancing in their heads.  Limestone Liver spotted wrinkled bone bags befoul the air with endless demands.  Dontcha know Miz Daisy learned to drive herself and the Help all went to the French Rivera.

Foggy Misty Morn

I am Hagar cast out of my prosperous household, denied by the Master and Mistress I once served.  Thrown out of my protectors’ house my Dream-child and I await Our Avenging Angel of Salvation.

My Dreams now dead buried under work obligations, mountains of rules and regulations that I seem to constantly violate just by being. No miracles exist for me. Only years of mindless drudgery ahead.  Millennial Overseers govern my every move with their remote control mind games.  Freedom lies dormant within my imagination.  My brain has been put out to pasture because intelligence is not needed or wanted and creativity has become a sin.  Automaton Me clad in nondescript dull uniform easily replaceable by the next set of hungry hands yearning for the pence dispensed from the rich mans table.  Hey!! Who’s next up on the Auction Block?!!  Come lock step into the Plantation Mausoleum filled with objects which are valued more than drones who guard them.  We be Aliens in our own Land.  Serfs never reaping a hard earned Harvest.

Yet soon a New Day will Dawn, Dreams will bear fruit and Visions be reborn.