Fields of Blue

01 Wednesday Aug 2012

Posted by Greg Frucci in books, change, choice, fear, moon, path, patience, peace, poetry

≈ Leave a Comment

Tags

bottom of the sea, finish line, gusts of wind, intense light, Moon, nature

From: Part III: The Challenge

Fields of blue i cross…

it is the sea which is the same…

yet…

seemingly different ones as the Path is travelled…

…and they just keep coming…

relentless it seems…

an opening i see between, so I go…

only to feel another in the distance…

“Sacred this Place is…why would anyone refuse this Gift of Beauty and sheild our Selves from Nature?” spoke Petah to the Moon.

An infusion of Power is a Gift not to be shunned…

racing a monster at sea with flashes of intense light surrounding…

gusts of wind which could throw a Soul to the bottom of the sea without warning…yet…

being One with This through a Flow creates laughter once the finish line is crossed, for what what was seen before as complex…becomes simple.

a Path to a Quiet Mind

27 Tuesday Mar 2012

Posted by Greg Frucci in fear, friends, moon, path, peace, poetry, sailing, spirituality, strength, The Path of Three Hundred

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Arts, Bermuda, god, Meditation, Mind, Peace, Poetry, quiet path, White-tailed Tropicbird

The Longtailed One, The Bermuda Longtail

Through a difficult Silence…

the distance to a quiet mind is less…

Strength within Self…

kept where others do not see if they cannot See…

That which no longer serves me in a positive way…

I release to the winds…

in order to release…I must…

acknowledge their existence in me so that they may depart forever…

Six days and nights alone at sea…

tired, I am…

a hunger in me grows…sustenance needed…

not of the flesh, but of the Soul…

Peace through struggle…

we all feel the process…

we all know how to travel this path…yet…

Fear consumes us sometimes only because we give it the Power…choice.

“As the Longtailed One flew towards the southern horizon, Petah wondered how a living being such as this lone bird could survive by itself so far out to sea alone. He was now less than two hundred miles from Bermuda…the tiny dot of land that it is surrounded by the vastness of the Atlantic Ocean, yet the time it would take to fly this far out to sea made Petah wonder how the little guy rested. He never heard the bird utter a sound while it hovered above him…he seemed to exist in silence.

“Is this difficult for you?”, spoke Petah to the bird as it became small with distance.”

From: