​Time has turned back upon itself
To the castle gates I run to be free,
I look into the distance, through the crowd He appears as a light unto me,
mesmerized by his light; tethered, as to the stars.

They warned against the blueness, a vast sea did I find,
I turned to feel his right hand pressed ardently within mine.

No, I could not look upon him, as he read the tractate of my heart
A soul lost in the midst of the abounding, yet found within the abyss of his heart.
 
But alas a tripartite could I withstand

as the gates close down on me

A whisper softly through the iron, guard yourself against the angels of misery.

Wherefore art though sweet light?

For we are knit and shall never part

Time has indeed turned back upon itself; as I stand, as from the start.
  ~ by Mary Lou Rosas

Summer heat steals the midnight air
While songs of yesteryear doth dance through her mind
Proper, delightful, insignificant
Thoughts like chaff from the wheat do distant memories fly
As the coolness of the whippoorwill's song 
sing to her a lullaby.  ~Mary Lou

4/4/2018
​​Would the plowman cut down the tender shoot?
Is not the breath of death and life one in the same?
Through Him have I known you; Peering through the eyes of everlasting
the endless valleys, the strong mountains, the blue waters.
Oneness before whom there is no one.
Twoness dwelling in the Silence and speaking only with himself.
And when he Cried out [that one] separated from the Church] just as in the beginning.
Who is it, then, who saved the one who was scorned?
Wisdom and remembrance, of
The Greatness who came down who entered her body, that she might shed the disgraceful skin.
To be born again with flesh and blood,
Oh, speculation has missed the Truth, while the tender shoot is mowed down……
But oh, how the seed still remains.   ~Mary Lou

 Mary Louise Rosas

She has found her rising
While her enemies look at her in shame, she flees up to her treasure-house, as matters strike her eyes in order to blind her.
She opens her eyes, casting-off her blindness; and utters words..
My soul was sick because it dwelt in a house of poverty;
            But yea has come to rest in the one who is at rest,
While the light from his eyes overwhelm the foes who oppose her,
and capture them in her presence;
              Like nets hidden from view.
My soul returns to my body and to those who had given it to her.
And the passionate light shining on her, does not set.
You are uttered by a voice,
but by mind you are glorified.
As my soul journeys……… forevermore.
My soul has tasted these things and have come to realize sweet passions are fleeting,but yea battle against her to fall.