Visions
Slowly threads of Light began to appear
Forming a curtain all the way to the floor
Each filled with it’s own purity
Moved in musical ways
A white beam of Light impressed the midst
Of the curtain turning slowly into a long
Oval from top to bottom
I was sure that soon I would stop breathing
And cease to exist as my eyes focused on the
Figure in the oval of White Light
Looking directly at me He beckoned me to
Join him in the Light
My heart now close to bursting with my spirit
On fire I looked into his eyes
I beheld in that mystical moment
My beautiful Son James
In the truth of his robe covering
Him from the neck down concealing
His feet
For my eyes his robe was itself Light
With bands of violet circling the rims
Of his large and open sleeves
Magnificently beautiful He stood quiet
As I gently circled his face in the manner
Of exotic pearl
I could feel the strength of his spiritual nature
As he drew me deeper into the Light
Looking beyond James I asked him about the
Great Cross not far from us
Is that in memory of Pain and sorrow, I asked him
No, he replied, It is love that gives us Life
Here in the House of the Highest Glory
Holding on to James I watched as the Cross
Burst into overwhelming Light, with such power
I had to turn away
The Highest Glory is here, James said
We are all now taken into Him
In His embrace we become one, His Love
Is beyond comprehension
Letting go I watched as my Son was lifted up
Transfigured in the arms of the Highest Glory
Illumined to the point of transparency
Lowering my head I waited for the Power
Of the Highest Glory to soften
James turned his face glowing with radiant Light
My father, the next time you see
The golden threads of Light, know
Yours days are close to ending
Through HIS Grace I will be there
To lift you and guide you through the
Door of Light
Slowly my Son was taken from my eyes
Leaving etched in my heart
His beautiful smile and magnificent spirit
I began to cry watching his radiance
Slip into silence
Alone now, struggling to keep him with me
I began my wait, knowing my beginning
Was passing
by Patrick Cartier
