Candle		Sleepless in Reality
As Eagle Soar...		A Quiet Moment
Dream Thought		The "now" Moment
Those and Many		The Y2k Truth...
Awaiting the Arrival

Note: (000, YYMMDD) = the approximate Yahoo Message Board entry number and date.
Spelling, punctuation, grammar, and line phrasing are as originally posted by the author.

Ah, the moment... A candle flickers from the summer's silent wind, caressing the flesh of sweat from a heated entanglement of desire, wanting, and love. The warmth of wind, soothes the touch of hand, across the bareness, and deeply felt beginning...of again.

EnchantedWords © Copyright, 1999

Through the instance of what life makes happen, all that transpires within a day, well into the night, and then carries to early morn, one is as always will be, to the exception of a choice, a change that spirit can have, if wanted, needed, and succumbs to.

A sense of spiritual relief, a growth for the character, lived life is moved with everything becoming still and dead.

A new beginning then is, will take exhaustive trials for inner-self, all-encompassing the soul for protective means, a truth, every sound, sight, is nature's delight for one's own deliverance through her way of lesson, brought into the realm that which is made, for you, to you, and only becoming of you.

Stance into the wind, moon makes its way down into a pit, hair blows listlessly from a quaint breeze, left behind from an insurmountable storm, the sea speaks with each wave pounding, the sand envelopes the feet, surrounds the toes, life at that moment, is not so bad.

Reality is what is made from choice, past is nothing to contend with, now is all that matters, and it has no know barriers or enemies, relies on one's given style of life and living, so moving forward is the end result, the sun now is rising, this message from a dream is well taken.

It will change one's perspective forever...

EnchantedWords © Copyright, 1999

When the wing flaps, the eagle slips to a fall, so easily and graceful, sees through eyes the boy.

He sits on the hill, crying for a life of love, begging to be withdrawn, from the existence he so knows, of hatred and war.

The boy hears a faint whisper, looks up into the sky of blue, white clouds of beauty, and sees the eagle's soar.

"How do you speak to me, my friend the eagle?"

"Through your heart, my friend the boy. You don't need to shed the tears of fear, or feel that there is a life, other than this one. I come to you for the comfort and peace you ask, the love you so desire in spirit, and show life is not without pain, but also with a togetherness with nature."

The eagle dives and touches the boy's head, leaving a feather dropping, listlessly, into his hand. The tiny fingers grasp, oh so gently, the feather of a spirit's lesson, feeling its power through soul, the flesh and bone deep.

"Go my son, be the man you are to be, grow up with my love and the love given of Mother Earth, she will be with you when I not, guide you when I cannot, teach your heart the strength it needs, through my wishes and demands, so you, become the warrior of this land, and the chief, of people who will need your love, so given by me, as your memory of this day lives on."

Yatah Hay...

Now the boy cries from a love so strong it hurts the heart with kindness. He will not ever feel that loneliness again. Only live to be a man of strength and love.

So given by the spirit, a creator, of all boys to men.

Owen Black (EnchantedWords) © Copyright, 1999

The winds speak of you, bring the way of heart from Grandfather, blowing inward the lands of growth, so the grain is plentiful, and the rains begin the life, the Great Spirit allows us to have.

Great father, my people have happiness from your touch, the path is set through forest, we smoke the pipe, the Buffalo Woman gave in truth to her being our guiding spirit, our living through the four seasons.

I come to give thanks, spread the grain onto this rock, set the powerful eagle's feather next to it, and pray till you make me see your sign, hear the water running from the river, the rains come and soak my spirit, the earth sending up a green grass, or the fire giving comfort into the moon's night.

My people give many thanks, as well, for all that you have given and bring tomorrow, with many more days of your healing way.

Great Spirit of the sky, I see the clouds move to make a beautiful white horse and flowing mane, a truth of your power and grace. We will move on to the land you have shown is for us, and live with your blessing.

The eagle is heard in distant flight, the sun begins to set, night brings a sound sleep, a peaceful ending, the beginning toward an adventure of truth, life, and nature's love.

Owen Black (EnchantedWords) © Copyright, 1999

Night is only the beginning, day comes as it is for thought, space keeps the time unknown, midnight strikes for the wicked and vain, although, there is no moment of hour except here. Deep pit of senseless graveling, cars pass, people walk by without looking at the world around,

does it mean anything? If so, what, why? Life is so mixed with false remedies of soul, paths given for the pretense of hope, sucking all that is truth from inward, the road to insane reality to live, to move, to exist, enter the demon, for it is his realm and touch, to which one can not be removed, unless, the sight is not the road, but the night, unto day, then midnight, of which it does not exist.

Owen Black (EnchantedWords) © Copyright, 1999

There was not any time, the moment came with a force encompassing a thousand winds, enveloping the spirit with more emotion than could almost handle, the sun was setting beyond the horizon, all the colors of the spectrum came forth, if shining through a crystal, specially made just for this instance, as too, an image rose in the center of all that brilliance.

It was seen to be something of flesh, regalia made for times past, an Elder of great wisdom and knowledge, The Great Spirit, A Creator, the keeper of spirit's love, and beyond everything the "now" has to offer.

Waves move in and out, with no sound as they fold and churn to a light movement upon sandy beach, bringing the sea's essence into the picture, vision. There is no one looking at what is seen by my eyes, every walking, running, driving, person has no clue to the magnificent image partaking the sunset's time, if even the clock is ticking, I assume not, and my inclination is to look at the wristwatch, but do not.

The reason for my vision is not quite present, an understanding of its truth is, His touching my soul for a purpose comes not as words, but the felt presence of love and life. More for the known reason of what I can put in words, that makes Him, what is, for all to feel as read.

Nothing comes to our reality except for a purpose, a wandering of thoughts which make everything matter, a truth, for its existence to be with ours and taking care of all which becomes a part of that life, so nothing then is lost or found without a realism, in which everything is alive with His essence, such to that of the sea's, where it rolls and churns, moving a swell up then down, never stopping and always moving. The Great Spirit, does this without any reservation on our part, He knowing how the spirit resides inward our sanctuary, where His truth comes without never stopping, yet leaves us for the reasoning to accept its motion, the compliance in faith, healing, and love.

The time has past and a moment is gone. My "now" existence is just beginning, a messenger, so must bring the goodness of words to whom may need them for their way of thought.

Peace and joy to all, and to all a good night.

Copyright © 1999 Albert L. Wade, Jr.

This is a special existence of now, a period of people where the past reflects a few, who made contributions for the many lives they did not know, giving of themselves unto a purpose, in which can not be duplicated nor eradicated, a purpose, for the lived way as you do, easily, so very calmly, and with a spirit inhabited graciously by you.

Certain people by many a name, from all walks of life, those cultures that expanded beyond their own, always making a difference as stepping quietly through the night, harboring a torch that could lit upon the world’s demise, lighting the way and showing a truth, they carried for your beliefs.

Go gently wondrous people, stand amongst nature, sit silently inward a town’s place, become unknown with the city’s faces, and pray a thank you for what you have, whom you to be, why so few demanded nothing for your path staying true.

Tell the Great Spirit your soul to keep, if not awaken from this long sleep, time has no reality, and the dreams become everything in abnormality, as each beautiful being crosses the road to which you come.

Be at peace, know for the mind, body, and spirit, eloquent love, that is the real trilogy of your existence, carried through your character to the young, of whom will be watching; looking at you, as the few to which paved the path for their living, easily, so very calmly.

Owen Black (EnchantedWords) © Copyright, 1999

So, here I sit. Agonizing with months of worry, weeks of despair, days that seem to go nowhere.

The Y2k this, and the Y2k that, stock up on whatever, spend more money on things, that may not be of any significance then, go and worry, worry, worry.

Yes I sit, quietly and freely, reflecting on all those weeks and days, depressed that people would kill another, for a gallon of water, or even myself running rampant from street to street, yelling to lock and close your doors, the “crazies” are coming, to pillage and destroy, nah, thinking I would rather be inside depressed and sick, sick because of making myself depressed, and so it is midnight.

And nothing... not a stinking thing happens, no Y2k bug chewing up computers, no people chopping up other people to eat, not a stinking, bloody, happening!

I have tormented myself for this! I stocked up with so much stuff, there is no room in any other room to move, or sleep, or eat, the bathtub turned green of algae, my money is stashed in jars under the bed, and spent most of it for the junk in other rooms, I should be feeling glad and happy, but now that I have waited for the worst, and it does not exist!

I become what the media wanted, depressed of all that life might have brought, and did not manifest, for the sake of news.

Sickened and down, I stand at the window and watch a child, ride by on his bike, the sun shines, a cool breeze nestles itself in the trees, and I have only one thought...

F...Y2k!

Copyright © 2000 Albert L. Wade, Jr.

She speaks with not a sound, her mouth opens with no word heard, yet she can tell of everything, found to be the world’s way. The earth’s might to fight for life, where everything made is not to be broken, even the human spirit can mend, those eyes, deep green with a touch of blue, is her way to give him the road, to where the truth of an angel sets, awaiting the arrival.

Looking and mesmerized by what is seen, galaxies living out there, beyond this time, evermore than even a spirit really knows, what beautiful eyes.

A gown so pure, white hides itself in the folds, picks its way through the breeze, waving with a definite purpose. Barefoot and a magnificence texture of skin, it has no conscience, no wrong or right felt sense, and it looking back at the face, peering in from her eyes, as setting comfortably in a meadow.

The young girl blinks, the boy’s astonished gaze broken, she touches his hand, he begins a melting pot of feelings, his heart instantly filled with love. The angel then transformed, to a beautification of butterflies and pollen, lighted by a forest’s sun risen day, a spectrum unmatched by any rainbow makes it way, across the path, inward the deep sense of what the boy found from her eyes, touching within his soul, his own belief and healing the angel gave him, through her, not a sound was heard, no need for words to be said.

He was in love. The message arrived, and gave her the will beyond the galaxies to make him see everything she was, even though she could not speak.

The mending of heart comes from the earth, wonderment only found inside the soul brought on by the spirit, for the mind to see how life really was made to live, to remember those memories and not forget to forgive, bringing upon the ways of nature’s touch, so the meadow of a sun risen day is everything humanity sees within its eyes, and beyond that of those far away galaxies, as the truth the angel sent for your dream, which is what it was waiting for, to arrive.

Copyright © 2000 Albert L. Wade, Jr.