Exploring The Star of Bethlehem

"The Star of Bethlehem " hub(1) has been a long time lasting burning desire to learn, study, search, and eventually write about Cosmic Mysteries.

 

This great and almost impelling inner impulse to study unkbown and absolutely unseen forces was strongly motivated by the childish and amazing talent to convert any event and situation into Creative Inner Artwork, another psychic mastery of my imperative soul to use a certain gift :Creative Imagination.

  What seemed a childish dream, daydreaming or foolishness in the eyes of other people was a converted or masquaraded gift to discover beauty, magic and inspiration to a dreamland where no man has ever gone before ...An genuine inspirational mind (a creative one,I guess).

Over the years this magical feeling and research was hidden under the dust of conventional reality with a surficial covering of a scientific non-competence.

But what has been left is purely hidden in our souls,and this purity of magic and soul innoncence is entirely derived from our star origins...the source of our coming and birth, a nostalgia to go back to our home and feel again like home.

No one absolutely has any chance to steal our desire to go back to where we belong, a return that can be accomplished in many ways, in case our bodies could not succeed an uplifting to Higher Spheres, our souls and minds do travel through gates to our source of origin.

Using our Creative Imagination every lightyear and every obstacle can no longer be a limitation.


Exploring The Star of Bethlehem on HubPages.com

*(1)(Hubs are articles posted on HubPages.com:learn more on my blogpost :My HubPages article writing and My new born page and Hubs on HubPages.com)

Sand and Foam by Khalil Gibran

I AM FOREVER walking upon these shores,

Betwixt the sand and the foam,

The high tide will erase my foot-prints,

And the wind will blow away the foam.

But the sea and the shore will remain Forever.

Once I filled my hand with mist.

Then I opened it and lo, the mist was a worm.

And I closed and opened my hand again, and behold there was a bird.

And again I closed and opened my hand, and in its hollow stood a man with a sad face, turned upward.

And again I closed my hand, and when I opened it there was naught but mist. But I heard a song of exceeding sweetness.

It was but yesterday I thought myself a fragment quivering without rhythm in the sphere of life.

Now I know that I am the sphere, and all life in rhythmic fragments moves within me.

They say to me in their awakening, "You and the world you live in are but a grain of sand upon the infinite shore of an infinite sea."

And in my dream I say to them, "I am the infinite sea, and all worlds are but grains of sand upon my shore."

Only once have I been made mute.

It was when a man asked me, "Who are you?" The first thought of God was an angel.

The first word of God was a man.

We were fluttering, wandering, longing creatures a thousand thousand years before the sea and the wind in the forest gave us words.

Now how can we express the ancient of days in us with only the sounds of our yesterdays?

The Sphinx spoke only once, and the Sphinx said,

"A grain of sand is a desert, and a desert is a grain of sand; and now let us all be silent again.

" I heard the Sphinx, but I did not understand.

Long did I lie in the dust of Egypt, silent and unaware of the seasons.

Then the sun gave me birth, and I rose and walked upon the banks of the Nile, Singing with the days and dreaming with the nights.

And now the sun threads upon me with a thousand feet that I may lie again in the dust of Egypt. But behold a marvel and a riddle!

The very sun that gathered me cannot scatter me.

Still erect am I, and sure of foot do I walk upon the banks of the Nile.

Remembrance is a form of meeting.

Forgetfulness is a form of freedom. We measure time according to the movement of countless suns; and they measure time by little machines in their little pockets.

Now tell me, how could we ever meet at the same place and the same time? Space is not space between the earth and the sun to one who looks down from the windows of the Milky Way.

Humanity is a river of light running from the ex-eternity to eternity. Do not the spirits who dwell in the ether envy man his pain?

On my way to the Holy City I met another pilgrim and I asked him, "Is this indeed the way to the Holy City?"

And he said, "Follow me, and you will reach the Holy City in a day and a night." And I followed him.

And we walked many days and many nights, yet we did not reach the Holy City. And what was to my surprise he became angry with me because he had misled me.

Make me, oh God, the prey of the lion, ere You make the rabbit my prey.

One may not reach the dawn save by the path of the night.

My house says to me, "Do not leave me, for here dwells your past."

And the road says to me, "Come and follow me, for I am your future." And I say to both my house and the road, "I have no past, nor have I a future.

If I stay here, there is a going in my staying; and if I go there is a staying in my going. Only love and death will change all things."

How can I lose faith in the justice of life, when the dreams of those who sleep upon feathers are not more beautiful than the dreams of those who sleep upon the earth?