Excerpt for Stray Thoughts 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 pictures by: Road, Tree, Michael Smolla.

Man Standing, Zsuzsa N.K..

All pictures found on

Space Picture: ESA/Hubble

I hope you enjoy these writings. Feedback is welcome.


Title Page


Bringers Of The Dawn

Legacy Of Ignorance

Like The Chinook Wind

Raw Greed

Reaching The Gates

The Second Greatest Gift


Is Our Universe Shaped Like A Globe?

Shifting The Focus

Simple Pleasure



Space Travel

Sunny Weather

Surprised By Joy

What Is The Universe?

The Healing Room Of The Heart

The Eternal Dream

Thunder Spirit

The Light Shines In The Darkness

Troubles Of Mind

Stray Thoughts


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.

Bringers Of The Dawn

From deep woods and gently flowing streams;

from searing sands and towering mountains;

from tossing seas and wind-swept coral reefs;

from polar snows and realms of eternal ice;

from hearts of volcanoes and deep rocky rifts;

from mines, factories, high-rise, and slums;

from smog-choked cities and clogged highways;

from rolling clouds and wild, untamed winds;

from pulsing northern lights and planets' wakes;

from throbbing suns and sparkling stars;

from bloody battle fields and refugee camps;

from the most distant worlds

of inner and outer dimensional realities

we have come... we have gathered... we now stand

in your midst, on the edge of your world;

we are heralds of a new dawn breaking,

so long awaited, so desperately hoped for,

yet so greatly feared, so little understood:

look! children of earth: here we are, fear not!

feel our rays of light disperse your darkness;

turn hungry eyes to the east as your sun rises

and see the crystals dance upon your far horizons:

understand the meaning of this evolution in motion

and come, join our dance -openly, freely, we dance

just for you on this beautiful earth morning!

let our wings fan your hopes and deepest desires:

appointed and perfect in time, we have arrived,

your Bringers of the Dawn!

Legacy Of Ignorance

I stand alone on a thundering shore,

cold spray washes over my face

and my tears are the sea’s tears

but I find no solace here,

and there is no answer.

The wind will blow

wherever it wills;

the sea will crash

eternally upon her shores;

and the black stones will stand,

mute sentinels

to the passages of time

and the ravages of ignorance.

The body of a grebe

floats among the wreckage at my feet:

I should consider it fortunate

it isn’t the body of a human child,

not today... not yet.

But is there a difference?

A beautiful bird dies of poison,

a gentle child of hunger,

thousands upon thousands

all in one day; just one day.

Now I realize there is an answer,

or at least a statement:

The sea is aware.

She knows.

As does all that has died.

Only man still fails to see;

to see his hand in the blood.

Is this world doomed

to utter destruction?

Or will the one who can alter fate,

will man


from heartlessness

and learn how to feel?

Like The Chinook Wind

Like the soft whisper

of the chinook wind

gently swaying branches

of spruce and poplars

on warming winter nights,

you came into my life

unannounced, but hoped for.

Under your springtime softness

my winter apathy melted,

dripped away so quickly

like snow on rooftops;

new life flowed

in endless rivulets and streams.

Like the chinook wind

I thought to myself, bitterly,

you would cool away and die

under cold eastern skies:

but you were the Spring Maiden

and with your breath

this new life flowed forth

joining the eternal river.

Raw Greed

Governments crumbling,

spending more, much more,

keeping alive

their slave making,

tax grabbing,

dream shattering,

energy wasting,

war mongering,

fear generating; and for what?

To spread the terror

of earth-destroying dictatorships

through raw greed.

Teach your children

as we taught ours,

man does not weave

the web of life,

he is merely strands

within it.”

(Chief Seattle)

Reaching The Gates

So much trouble

turmoil of soul,

darkness, fear,

and questions unanswered...

What is right, what is wrong?

I know

soon I will reach the gates;

I know

they will not yield to

the presumptuous,

the proud,

the selfish,

nor the greedy,

but only to the pure of heart:

and how can I know

I truly hold this precious key?

How can I know

this, that I hold,

is not just an imitation?

A lie I've grown comfortable

walking with?

Who will answer

this final question?

The Second Greatest Gift

We may invent any kind of trick or gimmick

to ignore, deny, or cheat old man death

but still he remains here, right here

and at the appointed time (his, not ours) -

in humility or in pride, we'll take his road.

We may search til the cosmic cows come home

and lay quietly down to chew their cud;

we may re-invent the quest for the fountain of youth

or fill our heads with arcane knowledge

and still we won't have a clue

as to death's identity, nor where he hails from.

The statistics are in: they say one out of one dies.

That being an unalterable fact, why fight it?

Why not replace fear of death with compassion?

Replace the taking of life with the giving of life?

For, wouldn't you say it is fear of death

that makes us fight and kill one-another?

If I cannot prolong my own life,

let alone save it, however I try,

perhaps I can give to another

that which I cannot keep for myself

or even give to myself?




coming together;


joining of spirits as



experience of inner





the heart,

touching every

living thing!


not evil

nor sinful,

but simple, natural




Is Our Universe Shaped Like A Globe?

I had a vision

that our Universe

is shaped like a globe,

same as our planet, or sun.

Whatever we 'see'

of galaxies, black holes and nebulae,

are but 'whirlpools'

on the surface

of this enormous globe.

The planets, the suns;

passing comets and flashing meteors

scattered among these spatial vortices

are as running, laughing, sleeping children

which these whirlpools created

over the aeons; and I wondered:

if people had this vision

they would see how the Earth

has created them too!

Shifting The Focus

A fear-based society needs scapegoats

that is a historical truism -

but who are the ones creating the fear?

The ones managing that collective fear

to their own advantage?

There is a tendency in these black times

for people to find fault, a desire to blame:

someone has to be responsible for everything -

from creating the national debt

to making us feel insecure and unsafe!

Why not blame the people on welfare?

The handicapped? The sick?

Why are they getting "free" money

from our tax dollars?

Must be their fault the nation's in a mess

and we can't get the debt paid.

(Has to be their fault - no one else

to blame at the moment.)

Oh, wait, did I forget terrorists

or is it illegal aliens?

And who has the courage to finger

those with their fat fingers in every pie?

The blatantly crooked politicians

we are enjoined to vote for?

Who even remembers, come election day

the promises that are still echoing

in the empty voters' brain,

rattling a bunch of scattered cells around?

Ah but of course,

it's the politicians who create this phobia

of welfare abusers; of fakers in wheelchairs -

who point the accusing finger -

blaming the victims of society and nature

for our economic woes.

Shift the focus: few will notice

the Fat Cats grabbing the choicest part

of collective earnings,

pocketing it while planning

their retirement on Grand Cayman.

Simple Pleasure

The simple pleasure

of hearing bare feet

gently awaken the dawn

gradually fades,

vanishing forever.

Though I may see the sun rise

over snow-draped mountains,

and see the white swans flying

to their favorite feeding grounds,

I do not hear the wind in the willows,

nor the call of the geese

on their long journeys south.

I see children play

and remember their cries of delight;

I see hands clapping

and faces glowing with happiness

but I no longer hear

the music of this world.


Smog; second hand smoke, exhausting exhausts

belching their poisons into the air

and something totally weird to top it all:

a sign on the back of a smoke belching

diesel powered city bus: “We all share the air”

Do I curse this trend? Do I cry? Do I choke?

Or do I choose to see the positive

in the negative of this image?

It is more difficult to breathe

when smog levels are high,

unless my lungs are healthy

then they don't mind so much:

I run and hike and stay in shape,

and that's my way of fighting smog.

Another thought I would share:

without blatant evils everywhere

how would we motivate ourselves

to take responsibility for the state we're in?

How would we become incensed enough

to activate the drive to seek and make,

those changes necessary to a better life?


Arising from the depth

of an endless ocean

a sun rise sends forth

new morning sounds:

of a wave

slowly ebbing

gently combing

a sandy shore;

of wind awakening

the morning mist,

blowing gently

along the strand;

of a bird calling

the change of season,

from winter's passing,

to spring's rebirth.

"nature's sounds amaze the listener"

Space Travel

Science fiction or reality?

Space crafts propelled by phantom drives;

by anti-gravity; by the spice mélange;

by 'warp' or space-folding energy:

people traveling across space

from galaxy to galaxy

following worm holes

in the blink of an eye: here, there...

To many this is but science fiction

but what if some have lived this reality?

Experienced in pain or joy, the discoveries

brought about by living aboard such ships?

Perhaps there is a place for new paradigms;

for believing the unbelievable;

a place where we can safely listen to such tales;

intuiting where logic wants to stop us.

Here, we might begin to conceive

how we can indeed travel to the stars;

and perhaps infinitely beyond!

Sunny Weather

A comment often heard

during a stretch of sunny weather:

“This is such lovely weather

why can’t it be like this all the time?”

But if I were to comment back:

“Well we really need rain --

like maybe a month of it

the fields are parched.”

they’d look at me

as if I’d lost my last marble.

Amazing what processed food

has done to people’s minds.

Food comes from the supermarket

or from the commercial greenhouse.

It seems the weather

no longer has any bearing on this.

These people’s parents could still see

that if it were sunny all the time

the rivers would dry up,

the fields turn to deserts;

and without water,

what then?

I think these days

the only thing they’d worry about

is having to leave the “Seadoo”

on its trailer at the beach.

Surprised By Joy

What if I saw the woman I love

walking down the street

hand in hand with another man,

on a misty magical morning,

when the wind of Spring lingers?

What if I held no jealousy, no anger

but only happiness

to see her filled with love?

Is such a feeling even possible?

I should experience pain and anger,

I should feel abused by her, shouldn't I?

Yes, if I do not love her, I certainly will.

If all she is to me is an object of pleasure;

if all she is, is a feel-good thing.

But my dilemma is: I truly love her.

If you love someone, what can you do

but accept and allow what pleases them?

What other way is there

for love to know itself?

What if we tore down the walls

we place around the ones we love

keeping them from wandering away;

from loving whomever they choose?

What if in our vision, in our minds,

we truly granted them their freedom?

Accepted however they lived their life, their love?

Would we not see our world differently?

Would we not perhaps

be surprised by joy?

What Is The Universe?

What is this universe?

We know it’s a place full of stuff,

but what kind of stuff?

We heard about the Creators,

those ancient ones, or Ancient One

who made this universe

from nothing, it is said. But really?

What kind of “nothing” would that be?

As below, so above, I’ve been told

and here’s a place just stuffed with stuff,

all kinds of stuff – marvellous stuff, smelly stuff,

scary stuff, twisted stuff, recyclable stuff

and stuff that just burns or evaporates

or gets stuffed in black holes...

to re-appear somewhere else as different stuff:

yes, stuff, lots of stuff made of stuff.

But how did all that stuff really get here?

Pretty simple, says my friend:

there’s a place (or places if you will)

out there, way beyond this universe –

full of people -- yeah, people, he says,

who like us, just love stuff.

So they make it, have it made, buy it;

they play with it, use it, consume it

and when they’re done with it

they dump it – of course, what else?

And where does all that garbage go,

that stuff they no longer need or want?

To their garbage dump, of course, where else?

Just like on Earth, only more impressive

(from a human perspective, that is)

than our garbage dumps, is theirs’

and just because we grew out of it,

(let’s just say we’re a kind of bacteria)

we think it’s a wonderful thing,

that garbage dump of the “creators”

‘Cause it’s our home after all --

so we give it a superlative name:

Universe! Of course – what else?

And speaking of black holes, he adds,

they’re just their equivalent of “Glad” garbage bags:

you see, when hot stuff hits the bottom

it melts open and everything sloshes out...

You need to be a bit more observant.

He said laughing and shaking his head

not as if he’d told me a universal joke

but as if I was a bit slow in “getting it.”

Now its my turn to laugh –

the amazing simplicity of it all!

The Healing Room Of The Heart

Is there such a thing as a healing room?

Is it found in a special building?

A special room? A great power place?

Does not all healing proceed

from one's love center in the heart?

A heart weighed down, crippled

from dis-ease of the body;

from fear, lack of trust in its own power;

from false belief, or disbelief;

from a sense of lack --

either of money, or love or other wherewithal,

is but a "healing room" closed to those who seek.

Must they then turn helpless to the parasites

who suck out the remaining life from the dying

in their surgical cubicles?

The Eternal Dream

How much of that substance known as "me"

already has passed outside the borders

of time and space; has forced its way

past the fears, the taboos, the ridicule

of a dying world, moving unawares?

In the night, the dead of night,

the inky blackness of a normal night, I,

the earth-bound, unknowing, ignorant

sleep the sleep of the fluttering moth

when the light is suddenly extinguished.

But now the miracle of the night begins:

the dance of the spirit, the world of magic,

the fantasy of guided dreams unfurls:

"Actors, pay attention, take your places,

sun, moon and stars, focus your lights!"

Always obedient, the universe as one

bows to the will of the gods in the clouds,

provides misty stairways for them to descend

to every place where action is decreed:

it's time to learn, it's time to play.

I meet my friends again, creators, actors,

with me in the endless drama of life opening

like vernal flowers in greening meadows,

their voices, the eternal Spring song of love:

we acknowledge each other, and play our parts.

Then, as suddenly as it came, the dream ends,

the magic wand is waved, the stage rolled up,

the last echo of our laughter caught

in the song of a finch outside my window:

"Are we just ships that pass in the night?"

I, the restless wanderer, wide awake now

ponder that endless question, seek the answer: wait!

Could it be that one night, after I learn my part,

I too will disappear with the waving of the wand,

becoming part of the eternal dream, once more?

Thunder Spirit

Angry waves crash against

a jumbled, rocky shore;

a raging wind howls;

torrential rain falls

from a heavily laden sky.

I stand alone in the storm

amongst moss-covered trees;

my heart pounds:

I seem to hear echoes of drums

uncovering wounds

caused by ancient fears.

A bolt of lightning

streaks across the darkened sky

randomly striking a tall silhouette:

Thunder Spirit rumbles

then gently speaks his wisdom:

“Remember your greatest fear:

name it! Face it!

Fear nothing; embrace all,

even your darkest moments;

your darkest thoughts

and Great Spirit's love will manifest

in clear understanding,

though seldom in ways

you've learned to expect!”

The Light Shines In The Darkness


The light shines in the darkness,

but the darkness has not understood it.

[John 1:5 – The Bible]


It is understood or believed

that before the beginning

there was utter darkness,

Chaos the master

ruled endless realms

of nothingness.


Weighted by gnawing emptiness

Spirit in thought overthrew

the bonds of darkness with light –

and what is that called light

but life become self-aware?


Light is revelation –

and the reality of things

that had always been

but unseen and unknown

even unto themselves

locked in the dungeon

of darkness’ pride –



And what is that called darkness

but utter ignorance;

the state of unknowing,

not being alive even unto oneself,

unaware, while and yet

always existing

in cosmic Pangaea?


In the beginning

Spirit brought into the worlds

the light of life

to run its course, long or short,

to become swarms of fiery stars

burning themselves up

in cosmic orgasms,

proliferating wildly

even unto



Whispered thoughts among the spheres

weigh its inscrutable path

cutting down friend and foe alike:

inevitable abomination

proscribed end of light –

and what is death

but the unalterable return

of primal ignorance?


Thus comes the end

the laziness of forgetfulness,

forged chains of ignorance

tighten and lock;

the lights wink off one by one:

allness once again

hidden in primeval



Chaos rules,

once more Master un-creator,

unchallenged, proud

yet ever fear-bound

to the next awakening

and which state is this now?

an ending, or a beginning?

Troubles Of Mind

I took a walk I'd hoped would be pleasant

on a cold, wet and windy day

and how I wished the sun had shone;

how I wished for a soft, warm breeze

to warm my face and hands today.

My troubles hound me like a cold wind;

like a driving November rain.

They penetrate my clothes;

keep my heart in their icy grip;

keep me from the love I seek to share;

they numb my hands: and I cannot touch.

There is a way out of this;

a place beyond these troubles of mind;

where bitterness is washed away

as rain washes down a street.

There is a way to see;

a way to skirt potholes and cracks

on the uneven road of life;

a way to not stumble, nor to fall;

a way, a sure way, a final way

to replace fear with love.

How? Consciously choosing

to transform the fear-filled mind.

Stray Thoughts

I look for friends,

simple understanding, even love

in the strangest places:

I've been to paradise and back:

I was given life,

not guarantees or promises

for none are needed, anymore.

I've met with the Goddess:

she teaches me simplicity

in things I deemed impossible.

I trust her, her friends

are family now, the others gone

and now, as Esther said to Mordecai:

"If I perish, I perish."

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