Morning Wakeup Call Message
October  9, 2002

“In the morning of the afternoon of tomorrow I give my love to your cause and your freedom.” The refrain rings out in the music of the ages. The promise is one of forgiveness and opportunity for one and for all. Deep within the garden of the soul lives a child who loves to walk the fields of daisies and roam the forests of gallant trees reaching for the skies.

Are you that child this fine day? Do you search for the pot at the end of the rainbow? Are you giving every moment the very best you can give? In order to find that peace within; in order to go into that garden of joy and beauty you first must find the innermost sanctum and cherish what you find there. It is as a flower with every petal about to unfurl in its own sweet time. When the Light of day has come round and touched the petals of your heart, do you shrivel back and hide from your own glory? You are the best you have, and when you bring that best to your consciousness, you embrace all of mankind.

Deep within the heart of the afterglow there sits a girl with golden tresses and violet robes. She rests upon a throne of deepest ebony laced with gold filament. Within her heart beats a rhythm true and fair, for she knows who she is and she sees all there is to see. One day she got down from her throne and cast aside her robes of soft splendor. She walked into the garden, and beyond into the meadow of delight where she met her fair King upon a sand pile. He thrust his sword into her coming path, and called, “Halt where you are. I allowest not your entry!”

The girl bade his wishes and gave herself over to them. She stopped and sat in the spot of her halting. Her head she bowed so as not to gaze into his countenance. Her eyes, they streamed with the tears of repression. Her lips quivered with the unspoken words of the undying love she felt for this King.

The man came forward into her avenue, and he bent to touch the spun gold of her hair. Lo and behold, the reflection of his dark locks shone back from the glow about her head. He furied that he would forever live in the torment that he felt over the price he had to pay for being King, and not having the throne he well deserved. He raised his voice in the anguish of the many years of abolishment into this place of no Deity of choice. He knew that this was the Hell he had spoken of so many times as a lad. Why must he spend so many years in the prison he had created in his speech? Was he not to find the beauty that this mere girl lived in every day of her life, and for no reason ‘cept her being of it?

Well the girl, hearing his words and feeling the torment in his tears, raised her head and looked into the eyes of the King. She saw there the child he had once been. She smiled and asked, “My dear King, why do you fetter so; is it not that you don’t see the ease with which you may share my world and have your kingdom too?”

“My sweet miss,” began the King, “I am so enveloped in my own upset that I cannot see the Light of day for the cloud which hovers over my beingness.”

The girl raised herself up and gazed straight into his eyes; with a wink she threw off his crown and sent it sailing into the forest. “It is too heavy a burden to be all that you surmise. Try the lightheadedness of the freedom of being King only to Thineself, and no other.”

The King, now deposed to the mere status of another, began to walk away to retrieve the crown he once supposed he wore so splendidly. But alas, there was no glimmer of the jewels or gold encircled with silver among the trees. Instead was a rainbow glittering in the light just outside the forest. He was drawn irresistibly to the hues, and he stopped in the middle of the bow of color. Within each particle of light he felt a reaching inward of a Grace so sweet so fair that he wept for the bliss of it. Within that moment he was transformed, and his garments turned from the adornment of the mighty warrior, to the coat of the colors of the mighty swordsman of the heavens. The coat was as his own skin, the sword gleamed in the perfection of the Light lance of the Almighty warrior of the Light. The girl came and stood by his side as the sword grew and encircled them both.

Then a wondrous angel appeared from above and the Light that shone forth from the angel was as the mixer that stirs a cauldron to unitedness. In a great swirling motion, the two became one in the Light of the sword and the angel. This Light shone forth into all the land, and the chorus rang out from the forest and the garden that there is finally the coming home of the Darkness and the Light for all are one and the same and all have come home to the castle of forgiveness.

So shine your light to the garden and beyond; find that maiden and that King and go forth into the rainbow of your beingness. You will find home, and your tears will fall upon the blessings of the place you call home. And you will be one.

I am Archangel Michael and I give you my story as a fair one of olde. This is my tale and this is my song as a gift I give to my family.