The Poet and the Psychic

All my life I have heard the cadence of poetry resound in my head and heart. My very soul has been moved with every conceivable human emotion by the words of a skillful and passionate poet.

My life as a psychic has allowed me a great priviledge to listen and hear those same emotions in the people that enter my life. I can offer insight and comfort hopefully delivered with compassion and love, but, alas, I lack the eloquence of the poet.

The words of my favorite poet, Ella Wheeler Wilcox, remind me of the sacredness of my work and to remember that no one can ever really know what lies in another's soul.

"Oh, you who read some song that I have sung....

What know you of the soul from whence it sprung?

Dost Dream the poet ever speaks aloud

His secret thought unto the listening crowd?

Go take the murmuring sea shell from the shore...

You have its shape, its color...and no more

It tells not one of those vast mysteries

That lie beneath the surface of the seas.

Our songs are shells, cast out by waves of thought,

Here,take them at your pleasure:but think not

You've seen beneath the surface of the waves,

Where lie our shipwrecks, and our coral caves"

Posted via email from ellenb's posterous

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