You don't know, but Shakespeare is not Shakespeare. 

Don't celebrate a birthday and give honor where it's not due... just because it was said it's so doesn't make it so. 

One day you'll see... and the world will awaken to eyes wide open for a heart that longed to change the face of man... and did but didn't... still entombed in a silent reverie only for the very still to hear. 

The lithe spirit that endured torment and brought us all to our knees in hopes of a change that still has not come. To educate man of his mortal fallacy and his decline even with the keys in his hand... a skeleton becomes no one. 

Rise up still while the green of life remains to be seen and your circle will not be in vain. There is time, there is a chance but is there action? That is the question, my sweet, fairest swan of Avon. 

May your devotion not be in vain though it has been so far. Though man earns billions off your brilliant word and occult knowledge, little has evolved the human consciousness to abhor war as you did. To see the uselessness of fight except to destroy the fabric of the soul. Crippling the reason of the heart's existence, we are left bereft and abandoned by our very selves. 

Is there hope, my fair swan? Is there? Should we still try? Should our effort be in vain since the mind of mortal man is ever doomed by greed and annihilation of the other? Wars of all sizes seem never to cease. 

So now what? How do we carry on when we are ever at a crossroads that deepens the hole in the ground where we meet. We are far beyond six feet under. We have destroyed our sea, our life-blood that is our rivers that criss-crosses our holy lands filled with poison debris. 

We cannot survive as natural beings. We are plugged into mania and manacled by obsession. Electricity is no longer just in the air with the beauty of the rain but in our very torrid bones set to a fidelity that's lost its true course. How the world of wirelessness effects our affects? We are not transparent as the x-rays suggest? There are ramifications to our speedy speeds. 

Come home fair one, back into our hearts where true consciousness lives. 

You've modeled what is right and what goes wrong. May we model what you've inspired in us:   The glory of spirit rising in a form no less of man nor woe-to-man. We tinkling on a bridge to nowhere that is not the exquisite abyss of the beginning but of a sorry demise that tortures us like the raven picking at the eyes its assigned to punish. We don't know we are doing it to ourselves. We don't know. If we did, would we stop? 

Is the human consciousness set on destruction? Endless moves of selfishness that defies true self-preservation? What of the glimpses of rise-ups for change, for self-responsibility, for accountability leading to wise action? Can these sustain us? Can these permeate the lure of denial? 

We will see... we will continue to see... and feel... and open our fair mouths like we've been told not to do. And, we will lift our hands, like we've been told not to do. 

And, we will move our legged forms out of the millennia bound prolonged dark prison boxes and stand up in the light of day, together, to be seen like no time before in all the spirit of home in eternity, right now, right now, right now. Don't let your pen down even though they've stolen it from you. 

 

Don't let them steal your golden voice. Don't let them steal your love for heaven that glistens and makes the flowers grow. 

Don't let them keep you from loving and teaching the children to live from the wisdom in their soul. A treaty on tomorrow only dies today. Make us your Instrument for words that bring to life your wise way… 

♡ copyright 2014 Sarah West aka Saralina Love

April 23rd, 1:40 PM. 

 

Stay tuned for a lecture coming soon by Saralina Love: Shakespeare or Not Shakespeare: Will the True Bard Please Stand Up?!