One of my greatest inspirations in the world of poetry is the late medium and writer Jane Roberts. She had a knack for phrasing perceptions, concepts and ponderings in such a way, that upon reading her material my perspective shifts and my mind bends.
Mercaba Origami was inspired after reading Nature of the Psyche and The Unknown Reality. Both are Seth Books transmitted by Jane with her mind bending cosmic poetry sprinkled throughout. If you dig this, I have more personal poetry in the poetry section of my Gallery Following Mercaba Origami are a sampling of selections from Jane that tickle me to no end.
Mercaba Origami
by Meniyka Kiravell
Portal Hopping
Dimensional shifting
Space time Traveling
Psychological origami
A final fold completes the swan
Flying inwards
Popping out
A mountain folds in on itself at my heels
It’s an Avalanche!
The swan is no more
Undone by my other self
From another station
Oh Psyche!
I felt alone before, disconnected
Now I feel one with the weave
A wonderful thread that tugs my own end
The whole of All That Is
Vibrates, Shimmers, Responds
Ripples on a pond
Simultaneously
Two butterflies collide
A hummingbird flies off course
And so it goes
Probabilities spin
Outwards and inwards
Along eternal vectors
In directions beyond perception
Fractal Explosion
Above and Below
Surfing waves of Potential
Vast and infinite moment points
Crystallize before my eyes
And I drop in once more
Through a fold, now a door
Opening, Closing
Frequency shifting
Birthed creating
Death is graduating
Ever transitioning
Becoming, expanding.
I experience, I witness, I am.
Cosmic Poetry by Jane Roberts
My life is its own definition.
So is yours.
Let us leave the priests
to their hells and heavens,
and confine
the scientists
to their dying universe,
with its
accidentally created stars.
Let us each dare
to open our dream’s door,
and explore
the unofficial thresholds,
where we begin.
=
I was walking past the world
one day,
half deciding not to stay,
when I saw you standing there,
ten years ahead of me in time
but so close in space
that I reached out
and touched your arm.
— April 26, 1976
“I breathed in the public air and it became private.”
If toes had eyes,
then I could see
how my feet know where to go,
but toes are blind.
And how is it that my tongue
speaks words it cannot hear?
Because for all its eloquence,
the tongue itself is deaf,
and flaps in soundlessness.
If you enjoyed this, there's more to explore on my gallery page. If you are interested in tapping more of your own unique creative expression and potential, reach out to find out how a transformation coaching session can unleash your creativity and confidence!