Lessons From Skywalking (A Poem)


Skywalking, she sees
as above, so below
As within, so without.

No footprints were left in the clouds.
No sign that her spirit floated by
She reached for a star,
To guide her
She reached within
To discern her path.

She saw the beautiful earth
The bluest deepest oceans teeming with life,
The green forests full of tall trees,
The mountains scraping the clouds with majestey
The deserts, vast and simple.

Was it an illusion?
Or mixed with reality?
Unsure, but greater
She walked home
To this earth
Where she tread softly still
Leaving no mark upon this earth.

Grateful to walk,
And to fly when she wanted.
‘Twas love that lifted her
To the sky.
‘Twas love that brought her home again.

In the end, there is only love.
Always and everlasting.

By Deborah E. Dayen

Picture from Google Images

Haiku No. 129: Ancient Connection (4 parts)


Except to her, she could feel
His torment, or joy.

It ran through her soul
Igniting threads, erratic
But never-ending.

Most days she ignored
The twinkling showers of sparks
Some days were blinding.

Honor connection
It is ancient, and holy
She’s known him, always.


I had emotions today ranging from pure anger at the bold-faced lies I was told, to that feeling of great sorrow for him.  It seems that the height and depth of the emotions are evening out.  None of them last long anymore.  Thought about sending him the song “Forever Young” by Bob Dylan.  Because I think at the end of the day that’s what I wish for him.  But I ended up on middle ground, knowing that the journey which he needs to take is one he has to embark on himself, and take by himself, and choose by himself, and I need to not add my energy to the mix.  He always said to me he’s never been alone, he’s been in relationships for 40 years.  He has the opportunity now, to do some real work.  I hope it’s what he’ll choose.

It is generally exhausting for me anyway,  our connection has always been so strong.  I have a couple of crystal pendulums and when I’ve received strong energetic messages from him they have been confirmed for the most part.  I am learning to let them come and go.  I am trying to pay attention to what I need, and let the rest go.  I told him he was dead to me, because I don’t want any on-going communication, and because I can’t take finding out one more untruth.  But I think I will always care for the man I loved, the one pre-Betty who was trying to be someone.  I will always love the child who steers the riverboat.  He was headed for the deep, but now he’s in it, and he has to find his way back alone.  I hope he can do it.



The Story in His Eyes

I know an old soul. He gazes at me, at the sea, at the night sky, knowing all of us, all these things, in days past. Days long gone, eons before.

He knows that he knows these things. He never speaks of them. He is not even sure why he knows, only that he has loved someone a century or two ago. That he traveled the high seas guided only by the stars. He understands bits of languages he never learned, and finds solace on an empty winter beach.

No one knows how ancient his soul is,

No one, except me.

How do I know?

I know because his soul and mine reached for each other, through the humanness that would deny his soul’s age. We may separate for a few days, even at times a few weeks. Then one of us will reach out, one of us will call the others name. Because we knew each other then, and we found each other now.


I know, because he understands me, without being told who I am. Even though I have an incessant need to tell him.

I used to say to him, “I see you. Underneath it all, I see you.” He said, “did you ever think that maybe you see me because I choose to reveal myself to you?”


It could be the reason. Perhaps what I arrogantly thought was my ability to perceive who he really is, was only because he allowed me to look in.

In which case, I am grateful, and honored.

He understands the way it works better than I do, I think. Except perhaps the idea of unconditional love. His humanness finds that concept to be pleasant, but rare.

Mostly I know, because when I catch him unaware of my gaze, I can see the depths of the sea, and of life, in his clear, smiling (usually) blue eyes.

When I ask him, “Do you think we knew each other before? Do you think we agreed as souls to meet up in this lifetime?” He answers, “I don’t know. And we won’t know til this lifetime is over, will we?” And he smiles, usually, laughing at me and my insatiable desire to know what happened before, and what happens after.

I still think he knows….His blue eyes tell me the story, when I get the chance to see them, gazing out to sea, or under the night sky.

A Small Glimpse

The heat from the sun transported me today,

From my deck outside to somewhere past

the tiniest of stars that might be visible in the evening,

as I listened to the quiet soothing music

of waves curling and exploding and receding along the shore

in some eternal, inexplicable rhythm,

in some remote, exotic place.

The sky became purple,

with glittering golden clouds,

flashing brilliant colors

not known to my small human psyche.

As I fell asleep, content,

knowing that somewhere in the universe,

This exists.

Now, the summer wind cools my flesh,

And my heart

To a peaceful reality of this time and place.

I smile at the universe who has carefully

given me everything I need,

and the smallest of glimpses into eternity.