Excerpt for Wind Dancer by , available in its entirety at Smashwords

Title Page

Writings by Sha’Ra On WindWalker

(in collaboration with Sha'Tara EarthStar)

Copyright (©) 2019 Cocoons to Butterflies Publishing

Published by: Cocoons to Butterflies Publishing

Chilliwack, B.C. Canada

Cover picture by: Marek Bernat

All pictures found on

Space Picture: ESA/Hubble

I hope you enjoy these writings. Feedback is welcome.


Title Page


Finding Paradise


Speak To Me Or Do Not

Summer Love

Summer Skies

The Birth Of New Love

The Man Sang My Song Today

The Princess

Sensual Glory

Too Early Spring

Touching Your Heart

True Love

Twin Flames

Unbound Love

Unfettered As The Wind

Vision Of A Woman

Where Were You?

Wild And Free

Wreck Beach

Winds Of Eternity

Woman Of The Sea

Wind Dancer


These books contain a form of free verse poetry, opinions based on observation, and some humour and imagination, engaging the heart as well as the mind. A critical look at many current issues intriguing and plaguing man. Spirituality, interaction with nature and environment, social changes, dwindling resources. Well worn issues now, indeed. But the poetry and other works in these books gives this subject a different perspective. I daresay that here we can find a "higher" vantage point from which to look at ourselves within the cosmos.

Who knows but some of the ideas in the books may get you inspired to do that thing you always wanted to do, even if this comes in a very small way, to make your corner of this world a better place to be in. Who knows but you may realize your little corner is a really nice place to be in after all.

It's all about life, if at times expressing life "outside the box" as the saying goes.

Finding Paradise

There is a place in every city

where one can get away

from the clutter, the madness;

a place where the air

smells cleaner somehow;

where birds sing songs of joy;

squirrels chatter; coyotes roam

and the sun shines

through sparkling dew-covered webs;

or stained-glass windows;

where one hears whispers

of the breeze through leaves;

or chants of monks or voices of angels;

where one finds peace, tranquillity,

and forgets the world's problems

if only for a few moments.

Each city hides such a mystery:

I know this; I have found one where I live;

a place to get away

when the system's stranglehold

would choke my life;

a place where I touch earth or heaven

and from whence, renewed

I can face the city's painful cries

without losing my spirit.

To some, it is called a park,

and to some, it's sitting on the dock

and to some, it's a candle-lit vault

in an incense filled ancient church

but it is always the same place...


Crises in life,

cause winter-like seasons of pain:

barren, lifeless, hopeless

seem those endless days,

yet winter can be a warm blanket

for those whose roots

find their way through the stones

and run deep within the earth.

Winters come and winters go,

each one creating new strength

in some non-anticipated way,

each one full of healing balm.

Difficult seasons revive faith;

sharpen spiritual awareness,

toughen the will,

harden the muscles.

How much are they

like gnarled roots anchored deep

within a changing earth!

Speak To Me Or Do Not

Speak to me of compassion

if you would speak at all

and do not speak of love

for love (as has been said)

covers a multitude of sins,

or should I say, hides them well.

Many terrible acts are committed

in the name of love,

but never out of compassion

for compassion cannot lie.

If you are to speak to me

of compassion,

yet know nothing of sorrow

then waste not my time

with your drivel

for compassion is found

deep within the well of sorrow.

Such knowledge is not

a popular flavor in the dish

of written new age spirituality

where uninspired corn

meets its twin flakes!

Summer Love

She emerges from warm waters

a Goddess of love,

a woman in all her glory:

stepping lightly on white sand...

I stand there, admiring her,

she approaches, smiling,

glowing with life, and I touch her,

her smooth brown skin pulses,

her hair dripping cold water

down the curvature of her back:

it feels like I love her

as no one has ever loved.

In turn, laughingly she reaches for me,

touches me, caresses, searches,

her eyes roving over my body,

her lips parted in a woman's hunger.

Within moments we are entwined,

the sand, our lovers' couch,

and we touch the stars together.

running free and wild

across the expanse of the skies.

When she leaves to go home,

her soft shadow lengthening along the shore,

I know I will meet with her again.

Yes, some day the wind will bring back

the warmth of this summer's love.

Summer Skies

wavelets lapping

sand shifting

shadows creeping

leaves blowing

swallows gliding


blue sky dotted white

clouds and gulls

suspended animation

in summer breeze

simply joyfully happy


body lying nude

in soft warm sand

soul rising

on currents of love

past sapphire skies

to unseen starry depths

where fall prepares

her return flight

taking my canoe

I add another time

along the river's moody bank

look for blackberries

and beaver trails

catch a deer staring

back -eye to eye


there is no harm

in this gentle world


warding off evil

A great blue standing

head and leg

tucked in


by the pond

in the center of the island

pulling up eagerly

jumping out


into the water

with a splash

priceless free delights

of nature loved


needed -we are lovers

under the skies

of summer.

The Birth Of New Love

By the sandy shores of a quiet river,

deep in Eden’s purple mountains

the morning sun

touches the tops of alders and maple.

Nature’s full glory

awakens from a fading indigo

and in hushed stillness

the fragrance of spring

fills the air.


the history of innocence

repeats itself:

he encounters

the long awaited presence of Tara,

the One who awakens from within,

as a brilliant light of new love.

From God’s own hands

emerges the Goddess woman;

the new Presence

which sees but perfection

in all things.

In his heart

he becomes aware of her

and rejoices in his feelings.

"The Man Sang My Song Today"

The man with the old guitar

stood off center on the stage

but he sang my song so well

I found myself under his spell.

He wore a hat and the light was dim

but it did not hide the piercing eyes

as his fingers braided the words

his voice laid upon eager strings.

He sang of things that were

I suddenly had to remember

and I couldn't help myself:

in hot tears I sang along with him.

He sang of love that came unbidden

so long ago when I had been young

and for a moment I thought surely

it was of him I had been dreaming.

I saw myself dancing wildly

in a world of golden stardust--

I was in an old familiar movie

and he played it just for me.

Yet I was there, truly there;

every chord touching my soul,

breaking my heart over again

in what was no time ago at all.

By his magic the guitar man

made me young and foolish again

and he filled me with crazy hope

as if it had never failed the test.

Well maybe hope never did fail,

maybe I just let myself get old;

time forcing me from the scene,

leaving a young heart in an old disco.

The Princess

I saw the Princess swimming

in a crystal pool at the edge of her world:

I thought how could she ever love a simple man as I?

All I have, all I know, are things in nature:

birds rejoicing, the morning breeze wakening my senses,

the sun touching my skin, the sounds of nature coming alive;

these are but simple things, not valuable in man’s world.

He makes his own things, more beautiful, more sophisticated,

but to me nature is life in all its simplicity:

like the Princess in her pool in the morning.

I knew I loved her unconditionally

though I expected her to chase me away and laugh.

She came out of the warm waters when she saw me,

she looked at me standing there nervously, and said:

"A worldly man gives things in lieu of love

not knowing the difference,

not having yet discovered love is all there is.

Standing there, I see a Prince, one who knows

life as love, love as life, one who appreciates nature’s gifts

Yet I see you lack confidence in your ability to give love:

come! Let yourself emerge from illusions of inadequacy;

let yourself truly be free in this sacred place...

free, with me!”

Forever changed by the miracle of her knowing,

the touch of her fingers on my skin,

the power of her love,

I too walk the Earth with power,

loving without taking, setting lovers free.

Sensual Glory

The scent of her body,

mingling with wild flowers

and sun washed grasses

nodding in the Summer's breeze

fills the air

with the fragrance

of anticipation.

I watch her undress casually;

a faint smell of sweat

still perfumes her freshly bathed flesh.

The overpowering musk

of her sensual glory

gives me a rush of energy:

all my senses come alive,

anticipating the ecstasy,

the pleasure of love making--

sharing our perfection

on a bed of moss,

as the sun sets in glory

behind faraway hills.


Too Early Spring

She brushed past my heart

in too early Spring,

her love's fragrance briefly

filled the empty space

around my life.

I have seen flowers bloom

impossibly in lingering snows;

eager to cover earth's nakedness:

I should have believed her,

put aside my doubts.

Now rain drips from leaf to leaf,

nature weeping, hushed in mist

and ever-present low-lying clouds-

or so it seems to me-

should I too, give in to tears?

What impressions do I retain

of my heart's sudden encounter

with a love unexpected, unrequited?

My sorrow has replaced

my so foolish fears and doubts

and I wonder: will she ever return?

Touching Your Heart

Flowers open

welcoming the morning sun;

birds chatter happily;

you come towards me,

across a golden meadow,

welcoming me into your arms.

I lose myself in your kisses.

I lay you gently upon the meadow,

in awe of your divine body;

slowly I enter your secret place

and you scream with joy,

with the moment's passion

as my love touches your heart.

We spend a day

in the garden of the gods,

talking low, laughing,

running with the wind:

until the setting of the sun.

We cuddle by crackling embers,

where the dawn will find us

ready for more love.

True Love

True love likely will never be found

in a roadside bar

or within the complicated maze

of dating games,

or by spending your last dollar

on the date line.

True love stands tall

in a lush green forest

touched gently by the rising sun

on a clear summer day.

True love is light rain falling

on open valleys and rolling hills

touching all of life softly

with each silver drop.

True love arches across the sky,

a multicoloured rainbow

bringing tears to the eyes

and a flutter to the heart.

True love, like great sex,

does not come in a bottle:

avoid false promises

of everlasting love lurking

within the covers of a magazine:

take a walk in the sunshine

take another in the rain,

then try it in the snow

or a wind storm might do it:

love who you are...

the rest just happens!

Twin Flames

(On Fire)


to breathe



of your



to take







and out

and beyond




that was

you and I




lost in


Unbound Love

I welcomed the sun's warmth

one summer morning;

a log brought in by the flowing tide

providing the philosopher’s seat...

l wondered:

why do I feel a reluctance

to give myself to pleasure

on this shore of paradise?

Though I did not expect her,

she came, unassuming yet bold,

flowing from within the elements:

Gently, she touched my skin, my heart, my spirit

and how quickly my reluctance

to taste of pleasure vanished in her presence!

Morning became an arousal

of primordial joy, unbound, like her love.

She showed me her dreams

and her desires for life reflected my own:

we became as lovers of poetry,

of romance, of stories told and re-told

joining, unashamed, unafraid,

holding a moment made of eternity...

When our time together was complete,

she left, other shores to visit

other lovers to taste–

to share her healing power,

her brutal openness and simple innocence

with whomever dared to accept.

Unfettered As The Wind

To the giant cathedrals

in the ancient, timeless forest

I took her.

Her frail body wracked

by pains she no longer could bear,

I laid gently among the roots

of an ageless fir whose top was lost

in the morning mist...

Though she no longer spoke in words,

I listened for her goodbye, her final wisdom

and as her breath ceased to flow

it was through her eyes

that she expressed her desire

that I, in love, allow her

to take death's gentle hand.

Impossible it is to speak

of the void filling my heart in this moment

as a mist from a nearby waterfall

mixes its tears with mine:

together we cry our loss.

After the vigil, I leave her earth body

gently covered with silt, soil and wet green mosses

knowing that in earth's long awaited Spring

she will give birth to sweet scented new life...

thus do I take comfort in my pain.

Now, her spirit freed, she paints the sky

glorious shades of cosmic colours,

Her laughter, the song of her life

instills renewed joy within my heart.

As darkness falls, I turn my eyes to the stars

and a sudden gust of wind touches my skin.

It is her spirit leaving earth,

unfettered as the wind,

off to places we knew in times long past:

I resume my journey

and no regrets for having known her

such a short time.

Vision Of A Woman

Through the coming storm

I feel, I see, a mighty vision

of a beautiful, powerful woman:

unlike any I've ever known,

her wisdom, her love, she shares

with any one who dares.

In my visions I feel this love,

as powerful as a prairie storm;

as mighty as a flooding river;

as gentle as a Summer breeze

over flowered meadows;

as shape-shifting as waves

shaping a sandy shore;

as pure as crystal waters

from a mountain spring;

as soft as a bed of green moss;

I can feel her now

as I walk out behind the storm:

in the freshness of the air;

arriving with the emerging sun

to greet my heart, to share a day

in the great harmony.

She will go, I know,

to gift a hungry world waiting;

with the power to create change

within the vagaries of life

and I let her go,

without any sense of loss

for she abides in my heart.

Where Were You?

Where were you

last night

the telephone rang

hollow echoes

in empty rooms

Where were you

last night

footsteps echoed

in empty streets

sirens howled

blood hounds baying

following scents

of prowling death

Where were you

last night

you lie here now

cold, white

forever silent

Where are you


Wild And Free

Her long brown hair moves gently in a gust of wind,

waves caress her feet as she gazes at the horizon,

contemplating: I wonder at her;

cannot reach the place

where she hides her thoughts.

No matter: silhouetted against the sun,

every curve of her tanned body

speaks only of perfection;

every glance, an invitation; every supple movement

makes my body come alive.

Ah! The way she walks,

the gurgle of her laughter, the sultry tones of her voice

between the waves;

the flash of her full smile when I reach for her hand;

the carefree toss of her head!

A friend once asked me,

“What is the most beautiful creation?"

To which I replied:

"I know of nothing more beautiful

than mountains with jagged cliffs

above flowered alpine meadows

on a clear, sunny day...”

He said, “One thing tops it all: a woman in all her glory,

wild, free, happy in her beingness

the true Goddess unchained as a melody;

that is the most beautiful creation

ever brought forth by love.”

Wreck Beach

(and a hot Summer day)

Sand drifts in with the tide;

trees guard the edge of a cliff,

stretched wings soar in rising winds,

and I walk among real people,

admiring their diverse beauty:

each one displaying

remarkable perfection.

Here, everyone's energy

harmonizes with all;

projecting love through acceptance.

Here, discarded clothing

symbolizes discarded shame:

gone the feeling of inadequacy

caused by exposed human flesh,

for here we know

we are beautiful

and no one needs to hide.

Oh yes, I’ll return

to walk through the surf,

watch the swaying branches

and feel the soft breezes;

to hear gentle laughter:

a symphony for the senses--

a place, simply put,

just that side of Eden.

Winds Of Eternity

She was sprite, elf, wild, untamed:

she loved to dance to danger's beat,

always one foot on the very edge of life.

Thus I encountered my mystic love,

in a place of her own devising.

I knew any love she expressed,

even from the depth of her heart,

would be as fleeting as a desert storm;

that she would fade away as a season;

as a summer wind.

I needed the experience offered

of a sacred moment of passion:

I boldly stepped within the circle

she drew for the daring in the sand of her life.

Though the wind blows cold now,

and the love I knew, beyond the farthest star;

though I walk in emptiness and pain

of a fire no longer kindled, yet still burning,

I remain without regret

in the memory we created and lived.

Now I too can dance with danger;

can live on the razor's edge:

from her I learned to disregard caution.

The past is the springboard,

the future, free to look to its own ends:

I can but live for the moment.

I knew heaven in her season of passion,

in her laughter and her kisses:

why refuse a taste of hell now?

My life belongs to that untamed past

where she still dances in kinetic waves

but my soul soars on winds of eternity

where I surely will recognize her again...

Woman Of The Sea

Dawn, and I open my arms wide

creating a vision of you dancing,

O beautiful woman of the sea:

of your love sweeter than the finest wine

to fill the hunger of my heart.

Noon: your soft hands caress my skin

lighting the fires of desire

and now, on these golden sands

the whole of me consumed

pants and sweats - the sun smiles.

Evening: by the gentle flame of our fire

I touch your perfect body

feeling the feeling that gives life to life;

the feeling that defies all languages;

the feeling which only you

could ever kindle in my soul.

No other has cared, even less dared

share the sacred place, the sacred space,

with one like me between land and sea;

or soared among the stars to love one such

as I but you: wonder not why fittingly

I dedicate this day to you.

Wind Dancer

I saw her dance in autumn leaves

of misty vales;

I saw her run with wild horses

over wind-swept plains

passing through

her fading untamed world.

I don't know why I saw her

as I was following the trail

of other hungry, greedy men

stripping her land of riches

long dead in the madness

called trading centres.

Perhaps it was just

a sudden warming breath

of the Chinook wind

which brought me a fragment

of her song from the wilds

causing me to stop and listen:

"Your soul will never be content

with riches sought from greed:

they bring but pain and misery

true riches are found only here--

in a garden planted with dreams

watered in celestial love..."

The sound of her voice,

the measure of her words

will haunt me forever,

the wandering poet

no longer able to believe

the world's version of riches.

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