Though I feel like the fairy Pea-Blossom in my new
muted pink ensemble, there’s greater resemblance
to Miss Marple - a fluffy sleuth; yet this will not stop
me dreaming with my magic mirror that plays along
and reflects me as a flower fairy - tho’ other mirrors
Tell different stories; with flower-fairy-concerts in my
mind I sing and dance all day long, the little alien in
my head turning somersaults, singing louder than I;
now to evaluate words of deva-conscious, angel-&-
spirit communicating Dr Bloom, who says
We can meet devas by being still - being aware of
our bodies, when I try my body insisted chocolate-
dipped koeksisters are essential for survival - I ate
one, still again, and fell asleep, tho’ at least it was a
marvellous feeling; I suppose the devas know that
I’m not a very good friend, they don’t waste time on
me as I’d be reading when they’re talking about the
home-altar-spirit - & singing as they explain things -
I won’t be an asset to the devas’ world, too tense &
on edge - which forecloses my mind and there are
No willing disciples waiting in the wings to hear me
relay any spirit-messages; verily, their poor spiritual
nerves would be frayed…
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