boring prose type poem

We are the revolution.
We are awake.
Together we will continue.
Together we will stop.
Together we will turn.
As one we will begin again.
All at once we will act as one.

There are no bearings.
We are one fluid mass.
We are the revolution.
We are awake.
We are one.
We  are the smart.
We are the hard workers.
We are the generous.

We are the tolerant.
We are the patient.
We are the strong.
We are the survivors.

We are the revolution.
We are awake.
We are sure.
We are one.
We control the momentum.
We make the uncommon choices.
We live in perpetual acceptance of diversity.
We view in wonderment.
We treasure appreciation.

We are the revolution.
We are awake.
We are the survivors.

I'm no Emily Dickinson .. considering signing this anonymous ... lol

Love and light
Lucy D

Old farts and angels

Half browsing the end caps as I passed the isles on my way to the check out my eye caught the gum, candy and trinkets behind an elderly couple who were being rung up furiously by a young woman in her twenties. I threw the two items in my hand onto the conveyor belt where they waited patiently to be scooped up into a bag. Nothing looked interesting on the shelves so my eyes and attention focused on what was holding me up.

"Two more dollars" the checker girl said; adding "and the thirty cents."

"94-95-96-97" the old woman counted out the very last penny in her hand and then dipped it back to rummage the bottom of her purse. 

OMG NOOoooo!!! my mind began to race. My luck had run out! I looked around and saw four cashiers with mile long lines and one was now forming behind me. There was no escape. 

"I just spent my money at the grocery store" the old man reminded his dusty mate by unfolding his pocket to reveal the lint as it dropped to the floor. "I don't have any cents on me at all" he added.  He reached behind him and began the laborious task of removing his wallet from his pocket as 'the Mrs' continued to jungle things about at the bottom of her purse. 

"Dear God" my mind raced as my face got red and I considered leaving the item on the conveyor belt and heading for the door; but all of a sudden my mind stopped. I did have but just one extra dollar in my pocket after the cost of my items. 

With my luck I knew they could be angels out testing humans. I could go on with my attitude and killed in a car wreck on the way home with my final testimony in the book of life being from these two! I threw the dollar on the table and they thanked me profusely. 

"I just went to the grocery store with her and you know how that is" the man began to explain to me as he pried two quarters out of a 'secret compartment' in his wallet. Just then, the cashiers apologetic look melted and a most beautiful glow radiated from her smile. 

 Choose to do good, even when you don' t feel like it. You never know where the angels stand, but in your heart you will know their testimony. 

www.masterlucy.com 

Master Intuitive Psychic Healer

Reiki, Tarot, Energy Work

glory days

Everyone equally has good days and bad days as we glide along the currants of our lives. We all suffer from the same human condition with its life changing events and accomplishments.

They become beacons on the river-way in our memory. In sales industry corners the 'good days' are pointed out and reminded to younger sales power. They call them 'Glory Days' because for one hour, or one minute of that day, you are in your 'glory'. Good sales people, who stay in the industry for decades have epic memories of a few such days through their career. (and usually reminisce of them often)  It is the high they are chasing regardless of how deep the valleys.

 Unfortunately, not all life changing events are the 'highs' to positively charge our regular currant of life. Interference can happen in a second two. It takes one random moment, and that moment is often long remembered too; even when all the other memories fade.

As we glide through the waters of our lives we must take pause and glory for a moment in the knowledge that all the rivers merge. One ocean of humanity trickling along independent streams heading back to the source from whence we came.

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