White lady, radiating white light, spun from the dream spell of a harp.
White Tara, saviour, seer, she who has guided me among the waves of tumultuous emotion or is it Kuan Yin Chinese Lady of Compassion.
It is ten years since I have been in China, sitting on an ancient city hilltop on stone stools, sipping green tea and cracking open sunflower seeds.
A five year old girl dressed in red, her parents beaming with pride and love as she sings me an English song. I had come to ask if I could take a photo. It is my birthday.
Another lifetime ago I had celebrated birthdays here in this vast land. There are few memories, one is me as a young girl sitting in a garden and eating a persimmon.
I am glad Tara is here, Tibetan deity of compassion. I long to know the God’s again, to reach my own inner God.
Windows of the soul are open. I am surrounded by silence, shadow, grass, birds, water flow, nature opening the windows of vision. I am earthed and yet I fly inwardly.
I need to get to know you again, Tara, my starlight that holds true within my heart. Beat your rhythm like a singing bowl, sing to me so I may sing back to you. Beat, beat, beat sings the bird up on a branch, twit, twit sings a smaller bird. I am trying to find my song to sing, the inner heart song, the inner truth.
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