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Poem about the process and #SurrenderingtotheSacred continued from the last episode to catch yall up:
The Mystery Still
They used to call that old white lightning “moonshine” in these hills
How many lips of other those words or family ties it breaks and kills
Strawberry apple pie or dark cherry kinds
But I found a new flavor my fingers and heart longed to find
Paid heed to the unanswered questions I spent too much time tryin to answer
Somewhere down the line I met a spirit and she bade me to release her
She gave me the keys to an old wooden shed
Her hair was long and dark, she was only 3 and her granddad’s hair was red
She came from the deep, A dark despair trail of loneliness
She rows up from the ashes and held me through the hunger and distress
In that shed, she showed me the silver, the copper and the gold
She showed me the jewels inside me, once I thought I couldn’t hold
She said the way it worked was this,
“you fill it up here and it makes a little hiss,
What you put in it is who you’ve been
What comes out that mystery still is your destiny, my friend”
The mystery still, a belly full of unknown
Stands in that shed just waiting to be blown
Open side, all the ingredients are there
You
“You just gotta believe” she said, “in yourself, if you dare”
I’ll show you the way cause you couldn’t even see
No matter how hard you tried, that spirit… What will be will be
“and that’s the magic” she said to me
Of sacred mysteries that come from pain and grief
Do you know her name, down this path you must go
Of surrender and sorrow of joy you can know
This still don’t make moonshine, but the Moonglows here still
Upon deep waters, wet and a tear stained two dollar bill
The birds are all calling and cannot be boxed in
Your dreams are free and aloof just like the wind
Ask for them to come and to you they will find
Their way through the core, the ground, from the mines
The caves you dug a long time ago
We’re dug by the same shovel that now makes you grow
This girl she smiled, as I sat down in awe
Bowed my head in silence, in reverence; I had no flaws
Suddenly I was sacred when I drink from that still
I’d learn the hard way, then she screamed, her voice hard and shrill
“your mantle, your fireside, your magic, I live inside.
You must off and stoke the fire and feed me” she cried
You never are done, don’t think you’ve made it
Each day, remember to keep the right flame lit
Don’t let it go out, else you’ll have to start over
And axe to this still, and your spirit sinks lower
Out of reach, out of time, out of luck, out of rhymes
Just put back on your skates and roll outside all the lines
You’re still is your own,
Every seed you have soon
Weights and yearns for your return
Build another fire to burn
If you still don’t know what this still is about
Think of a soul, longing to get out
As in distill, intoxicate your beautiful self
With the mystery of what is, take it down off the shelf
You open a portal and let spirit in
You release your control over who it is you’ve been
That little girl who showed me the way
She’s a firestarter, pyromaniac it play
She can blow up some shit because she knows no better
But refined… She is genius and shakes her tail feather
The horizon cannot hold her, this child of God and Moore
She put in the time and said Grace for her store
This mystery still she’s found out how to use
Is a vertical prayer, open to gnosis and truth
I’m learning to use it, growing day by day
Excepting my feelings, no judgment, and a loving and kind away
As she hand me the keys and I return to make my shine
She lies back, relaxes and daydreams all the time
I long to filter out what I’ve been told versus what I know
My innermost yearnings, the balance, the flow
The gut, the tingles, the pangs and the blood is still warm
I’ll tell me the truth, like a pouring down storm
It’s like talking to God, From a sacred, me – shaped telephone booth
The mystery still takes me, shapes me, and provides me with the truth
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anita lorraine moore 