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  • Wendy Robertson Fyfe

A Pilgrimage; Listening To The Voices Of The Winds, Pt 6 of 6: Edge, Still Point and Vortex Dreaming




"All is waiting, kept safe for thee. Beautiful songs in thousands. Where has thou been? Where has thou been? Where has thou been?" Sufi Nun, (8th century?)* The winds are turning; l can hear them moaning louder, revving up, whirling. Sometimes l hear the incoming tide’s waves and winds echoing each other in another kind of harmony; l can’t hear the difference between them this dark night. I continue leaving my window open and the winds are now in my room; even the closed inner doors are banging. This night l feel cold waves more deeply blowing across my face. It feels as if unseen, invisible Gods and Goddesses' breaths are in my room, l’m listening. A fox barks. Gust howls are crashing into the houses in the street and l can hear windows rattling, gates sounding like broken bells. I’m listening; l can hear the winds circling in the distance, accelerating towards catalysing crescendo. All my senses are listening.

~~~~~

"All is waiting, kept safe for thee. Beautiful songs in thousands. Where has thou been? Where has thou been? Where has thou been?" Sufi Nun, (8th century?)*

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