Mindweather

I am a spirit guide.
I live in the thought-form of inspiration and practicality.
I am yours to know
when your linear mind is having difficulty repairing.

Repairing your mother’s womb..
the loss of connection,
the moment the umbilical cord was cut.
You were part of her,
and now,
you are part of you.

Such a physical rupture
is also felt etherically.

I was there with you
as you learned to crawl and speak
with innocence.
Your little hands could wave
and make anybody smile.

I am the spirit guide
who walked with you
through your illiterate mind
the one that could not experience
without gathering experience.

The teenage rebel.
The dive bars on a school night.
The B-52 shots set on fire.

My goodness,
how you can draft a memory
when you allow yourself to flow...
in the in-between
of hidden growth.

Have you let yourself
float in the ethers
just to stay observant
to innerstand the mindweather?

You’re grown now.
And yet,
when spirit speaks,
the lucid dreamscape of memory
unlocks what’s still lost.

You see,
there are memories—
and if you're willing
to intend them
as past life regressions,
your mind-map strengthens.

Sometimes,
automatic writing
isn’t ghost-body possession.

It’s memory recollection.