I feel like a great vault is accessible from my inaccessible brain,

Where words abound where language awaits its turn once more

To bring about the glory of change agreeable to all.

Where civility is incontrovertible & of such a nature to be courtly.

There are dozens of realms to be alive on, layers within each

To rely upon

Choose one you want.

Mine? Back to words…I write as I would walk on lily pads

With subliminal terror put aside in favor to trust

The next word sliding out from my pen.


I trust the Process.

Things must sort themselves out.

Instinct does still count.

We wouldn’t be discovering brains in all our major organs,

If nonexistent.

Trust the plan that is for you.

But examine it for joy first, then for all you wish.

Even wishes that have to shrink down fit you well enough,

If there is joy.


I feel as though I stepped onto the emergency exit from heaven

One long chute yellow-slide-burner-butt

Earth turning as I’m landing

[The timing’s gotta be good here, guys

You’re sure about those landing estimates?]

I am still bouncing!

What, wave goodbye?

Honey, I fell front in a free-fall

My face a rictus of disbelief

A millisecond of what was I thinking?


Thrust into the feistiest game of all,

Human life on Planet Earth!

Could it possibly be all I’d heard in heaven?

Was it worth the waiting, the gamut of Eternity run

To stay even in place to enter this Game.

I must have been bored playing that harp

Sittin’ on that cloud, pointing my toes toward…

But, damn people, the world I wanted to land in

Is coming up fast.

Here it is: my gold ring! The Present.



I wasn’t built for this, all this drama

I engaged it until

My wherewithal went missing.

More Old Man & The Sea than

Moby Dick now.

I was more a board game type

Than paintball any day.


Whether worn-out or “with it”,

Game on!



I am rebuilding from the inside out

The new me won’t have so far to go

I hope, for her sake –

It’s not  inadvertent,

It’s her turn,

We exchange words for wings.



How quickly it left my mind,

Twenty-five years of career

I licked an envelope,

Mailing it off


Now my body can heal,

Now I throw off short-term toxins

With choices born of more time

Of fluid effort.

I recall entering massage as the exploring phase

The please, can I be a healer stage

Vivid, arresting, fascinating in its balanced

Power & purity.

Of course I recognize it: the Ego powers all through!

I see now how final the break is

How past its time to be gone it was

The mantle may settle upon another

(Even my angels wanted out…

I think they at the Casino.)

It’s so huge I just can’t find it anymore.

Carol Borsello  4/23/21

Goddess Return


If we feminize her, then I ask you to your face:

Have you ever known a woman awakening

To whom she has become

To torn & dirty clothing,

To civilizations

Wanting only


And cleanly lives.

Her breath can’t quite sync the change.

She’s wakened to our best & so much less unless you

            Suborn destruction

We live so intensely watching chimera

Aborted promises –

            Gutted for greed

But she’s awake.

It’s time to let go of the drama

To forge ahead on upcoming realities

So shave your head in rebirth

Feel the changes the Light will make

On your scalp.

Let the wind & wynd of your language

Move you to indwell

A willing heart.

Set down everything of who you have been,

If you wish to be anything else.

her hands smelled of Gardenias

from the oils added to the diffuser

bees danced outside her door.

The hand on my low back guiding me

So long has passed midway

Settled atop my spine

Watching over my shoulders

In excitement when I venture out

But the me who’s not That Me

Is inert, buried in a book,

A dream, as sublimation of life

Happening to itself elsewhere.

I miss ritual, the drums, the sage burning, the comradely changes of women meeting one month apart, coming from Church by way of the kitchen, let us eat before we drum.

And so we cleared away, choosing drums or uncovering them, forming an in & out circle with Grandmother in the center. We started her heartbeat, accosting all the grandmothers to reach for rattles, to join our rhythm.

We drummed away sadness while we welcomed its allowance; we drummed the sun across the sky, we broke & formed & ate again.





To whom this moment belongs:

Of whom life examples all

Unique to each

We dance

A skein of heartfelt beauty

Unabashed existence.

I have had that discussion

Un-numbered times

In languages I no longer speak

Won’t you set me free this moment?

When tears mist my eyes, hurting-salt

From glimpsing the rainbows just outside?

I don’t expect you to fall upon me weeping

When my eulogy is read

Unless I am the one reading it.

I am a Libra

All I can do is come into balance.

Once there,

I am free.

Opening To Receive

We know that you have been making the most of a pretty bad situation there on Earth. We also know that you have summoned so much help, so much healing, so many solutions, that there is a sort of logjam of energies that have been coming your way but that not enough people are open to receive. (Arcturian Council)

Decisions are being made for me & I love/fear it. I feel finally in touch with so much more of me than was available before.

Now I have read for years the veils are thinning. At times, different signals were pulled through – inspirations, epiphanies, far too many to be synchronistic – way above & far beyond. I stand in a shaft of sunlight every day. Right after I step free of any shadow of fear. There are more days now when fear doesn’t even crowd the frame of my picture.

My point, since I am goaded/guided to put this into writing & send it, predawn, into the cybersphere, my point is that I notice repetition. Re-petition. Some seer once said (when asked if it was ok to filibuster God), “You don’t mail a letter twice.”

Information & data have been arrowing toward me since childhood. It wasn’t necessarily me they aimed for, just I was there & wide open. I grew up in a relative form of isolation (think lighthouse-keeper in training.) Wisdom keeps elbowing to the front, accosting me most directly. All attaches my attention, engages synapse, repeats again some time-told truth humming in vibrational sympathy. It turns out I know everything. I have heard it all before.

It is now when the databits are coalescing into real information. I am differently attended: paying different attention as perceptions are not just widening, but layering. A sense of jubilation attends. I feel as though I have entered a library while wandering familiar premises. I feel like saying, “Hey, I’m home! Who else is here?”

The information is already codified: written up: reproduced on all media: spoken: unheard: remote. The information dances just around my reach. Sometimes I knock it aside, reaching for to satisfy another appetite. However I removed myself from it, the knowledge is all around now, I walk through a Theatre of Change, constantly pushing up my glasses.

The timeline is bifurcating ahead. Others buy food to have a year’s supply. I buy black-marble-copybooks as a hedge against death. I write. Soon I will write more. One motor that kept me running has wound to a stop. The ones I move forward with now run on this form of Light, as far as I can see. I need to walk in this for awhile.

I’ve run with the Sages, the Seers, the seen, Life is no more than before it would seem

but light lives in spectra we strive to achieve in notice, in knowledge, in all we believe.