Preface

I’m aware, that after a recent healing, this poem is a Spark from the Infinite Intelligence, and I am grateful to the Brothers for the healing energies projected to me in my attunement with them. I will continue to do all that I can to serve my progressive evolution, and I desire that the manifestations of Love and Light in my life will help others. I extend my gratitude to Tom for Unarians United and all others here for sharing, for all of their services in the Light. All of them (You) have helped me.

For the first time, yesterday, I had to use the city’s public transportation service; the value of that simple act, which I enjoyed, will brighten as you read Galen’s Light! Last night, as I sat relaxing, I was prompted to get up for pen and paper to take notes. As I did, a Brother appeared in a shining blue, silken robe, and upon his head was the most beautiful violet crown, the ring of it made of Light. In his hand, he held another crown … for me. It was a golden one with insets of violet and blue Light in the top. He leaned forward, placing it on my head, and as I continued to take notes, I began to feel a swirling sensation in the top of my head. I became drowsy, and it was only moments later that I had to put aside the notes and fell asleep. Before doing so, the Brother instructed me to pay attention to the man in the vision sitting in front of a an easel and canvas with a brush in his hand, painting images attached to poems I’d recently written and posted on the Site. He wasn’t just graphic artist, he was a writer. The hair on his head, gray and white, inside a crown that he too wore, made me aware that he had been both for a very long time, and Loved, Loved being so. With a few strokes of his brush, whatever he desired appeared on the canvas.

I awoke this morning around 4:30 with the intention of writing this poem, and after deliberating the title for a while, I decided.

People are chattering
about the Transit Bus—
the One everywhere that goes anywhere
and the Bird who rides
chirping His three-word song
“Hop on, hop off”!

Children who never ride the Transit Bus
ride to hear Galen’s song.
“Four words”, they say,
and Galen discerns their error.
“One word twice”, He beeps,
“Hop on, hop off”!
Little fingers snap to the rhythm
and Light Illumines memories.

Prattling people on the Transit Bus,
or just outside upon the street,
nothing to do, or something, wonder,
“Are we in older times”?
They see Galen,
they hear His song,
and while He chirps
the children call
“Sing to us again”!

“Hop on, hop off”!
And in the Light
those who remember riding long ago,
join Galen in His Love Song.

Na’Imah

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