The Auric School
Oh dear, it is as I feared, I scanned Aura Energy, feeling no synergy
with the well-meaning author as he orated on the magnificence of the
aura's appearance, colours connected to numerology, there he lost
me totally, writing of tentacles and auric vampirism
He explained how to fix the aura in order to cleanse an emotional system, but I shook my head, if emotional states cause the aura to
fracture, dis-colour and become nebulous or change from iridescent
to dark grey, I would prefer to work on the mental aspect instead
of approaching trees
And using the moon and stars' influence to release their magic on
the broken aura, crystal-waving like pendulums seems to be too
bohemian, if I could have invested these procedures with hope and
belief, they would probably work for me too - but starting by
trying to visualise the aura is too much
Using physical sensors meant to perceive the material world to
focus on an immaterial entity like the aura simply makes no
sense to me, I'm glad Joe Slate and his acolytes are successful
in repairing auras no-one but they can see - and thus heal
people from suffering
But I'm doomed to invest my belief in systems I have visualised
as a child and proved successful after concentration on the
imagery - anything would do and if I had been brought up in
the auric school, I probably would have had success in using
this to change reality, now too late to change my fate…
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Related quotes
The Aura Of Being
LIKE A RADIATING AURA,
MY WHOLE BEING GLOWS OUTWARDLY,
WITH THE BURNING PASSION FOR TRUTH,
LIKE THE FIRE OF MY BEING,
MY AURA GLOWS,
YES, I WILL EXHALE WITH RELIEF,
WHEN THIS FEELING BEGETS ANOTHER,
THE AURA OF MY BEING IS ME,
I AM ME, YES I AM ME,
A SOVEREIGN BEING THAT LOVES TO LOVE AND HATES TO HATE,
THE AURA OF MY BEING IS ME,
MY PASSION FOR TRUTH,
MY LOVE FOR INTEGRITY,
YES IN THE AURA OF MY BEING, I BASK,
I WILL SING MY SONGS WITH JOY,
I WILL CRY MY TEARS ALONE,
I WILL FEEL MY PAINS ALONE,
I WILL BEAR MY SORROWS ALONE,
WHY? MY BEING IS MY AURA,
MY AURA IS MY BEING,
I AM A BEING RADIATING WITH THE AURA OF REGALITY.
MY AURA IS MY INTEGRITY.
THE AURA OF THE TIGER, PROTECTS THE TIGER.
poem by Overlord Don Manuel Ihcakeyno
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2010/07/08 Opalescent
I like covering my notebooks with interesting paper
now I know why – because I want it to resemble my
idea of a positive aura, my clothes have the same
function, this is why I cried when Linah destroyed
my purple top
Today I found the perfect paper to create my aura, I
am not pure enough for a clear golden light, but purple
with pink and silver and yellow and white, with patterns
of butterflies, is just the right combination to entice me
to a special aura
If I could sew I would have created these covers from
shimmering fabrics to make them long-lasting, I would
have made bohemian dresses in purple, dark blue and
white with silver sparkles - I went to the craft shop to
stare at shiny ribbons
To decide on the perfect aura, I am in a purple-and-pink-
shining highlights phase, always finished with silver sparkles
to create the effect of iridescent reflection, I love clarity and
golden sunbeams, snowdrops with an opalescent sheen - I
wish I could dress according to my
Auric dreams – but wings would do just fine, I am sure the
halo around heads is the nimbus represented in
old-fashioned portraits of saints…
poem by Margaret Alice
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Aura
If aura can numb the senses,
The tactic can be used for offenses,
Stand beside the human we desire,
Loan, loot and love can be ours.
If aura can numb one's own senses,
How can they feel the pleasures?
Aura is the radiation of heat
from anything that can burn and blaze.
Photograph of aura seems to reveal,
Mindset of one, who pose with no metal,
Rainbow colors are there with additional hues,
White and yellow for the saints and spiritualists,
who do not burn much for worldly pleasure,
running to hurt another heart to get gratified.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Colors Of Peace
When
a skunk dies by violence
a bad smell infects the land.
When a cow dies by violence
her unheard cries pollute the land.
When a pig lives out his life
in safety,
good fortune accrues.
*********************
Annie Besant in the years when Chicago
was the physical slaughterhouse capital
of America saw its aura of red anger
an hour away.
Nonviolence can change any aura
to deep violet.
poem by O. Anna Niemus
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Sparks the Jade Aura
bottled ourselves for other to learn, push the
limit of your entity, make it bright to see, any
time the aura belongs to you will shine; like a
golden Buddha, and no one have ever had find
the meaning of enlighten aura of wisdom for
free
sailor sail on, the rough sea, still is on; and the
Poseidon of the ancient sea lives together to
lean on, as if the rushing wave faces the seashore
to dash and calm no more, for my heart always
looks the distance fate I may be alone
glamorize the abandon wall, the grass has been
growing, the backyard tree lives freely and the
garden of flower flourish like huge orchard of
Daffodils in your return
laments all your joy, molded like jewels in the high
seas, for the sailor always find the Lighthouse in
the ocean of jade in your heart that is lucky, stay
always of what is the inside and be blessed with
for your safety
moment comes infinite to find your fate, touch the
scented candle of faith for you to glow in the
wisdom of jaded aura of everlasting glory with
God ……
your God’s instrument, go on …….
poem by Antonio Liao
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Ghost image
You have delivered tectonic shifts
To me-
Wirelessly;
You have gagged & bound me in this box,
Chasing me-
Runaway fox.
Your simple photograph
Set me free,
Such a commonplace simplicity.
But, oh, with you, girl,
It was different.
I could curl your hair
Between my fingers,
Although it was not there;
And that sly smile
Dangling behind your eyes
Gave glory to the dawn.
There was the aura, too,
The aura hovering about you.
I did not know any more about
What was real and what was representation.
This could not be love,
So must it be infatuation?
poem by Stan Petrovich
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Build eternity in your Mind
the child moulds the best quality of spirit and soil; breathe
the eternal gift of life by the giver of life, the purest of soul
inherited by the pre-existed being in the universe, before
time comes into existence
the birth becomes the only contact of profane material
in the given ground to subdue, to live, to survive of what is
reality in this earthly place of immortal aura, the inner force
given by the beyond conquers known the most challenging
wave of reality, the eye that close the window of the world,
the spirited world that mankind lives, a reality that all has no
chance to swift, but to swim and lay our card according to
what our experiences man possess
all, the world gives; the family, the profession, the children,
the dream of tomorrow, our very own desire and the faith
as it lives on in our innermost feeling is just all the wisdom to
go, the spirited soul comes to experienced the fundamental
avenue of going to heaven, a vision that all dream of and live
where the sun whiten the cloth of everlasting glory with God
the moulds which you where made, comes to worship, the
beginning of your dominion in each heart, a perfect day of
reckoning heart to live in the shelter of God haven, as the
soul swings to the timing of pendulum of perfect world, the
man entity transform into a god like aura of heavenly best,
for the end has change the beginning of love in the
end time with God forever
build the beginning of your mind an entity to live with the
most high in the paradise, where all is call to live with God
in a place call ……. Pleroma of end time
poem by Antonio Liao
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Ecco Mormorar L'onde (Now The Waves Murmur)
Ecco mormorar l'onde,
E tremolar le fronde
A l'aura mattutina, e gli arboscelli,
E sovra i verdi rami i vaghi augelli
Cantar soavemente,
E rider l'Oriente;
Ecco già l'alba appare,
E si specchia nel mare,
E rasserena il cielo,
E le campagne imperla il dolce gelo,
E gli alti monti indora:
O bella e vaga Aurora,
L'aura è tua messaggera, e tu de l'aura
Ch'ogni arso cor ristaura.
Translation:
Now the waves murmur
And the boughs and the shrubs tremble
in the morning breeze,
And on the green branches the pleasant birds
Sing softly
And the east smiles;
Now dawn already appears
And mirrors herself in the sea,
And makes the sky serene,
And the gentle frost impearls the fields
And gilds the high mountains:
O beautiful and gracious Aurora,
The breeze is your messenger, and you the breeze's
Which revives each burnt-out heart.
poem by Torquato Tasso
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L a s t - R e q u e s t {Ariel's Promise}
Standing close, yet not quite o'er you,
so as not to disturb your stilled presence;
your flesh, shades of ecru, 'n like an aura,
I feel the pulse of your once amber heart...
touching me...cotton gentle, bisquit warm...,
telling me, 'Love......I am not far away''.
But come 'morrow, when they open th'earth,
lower you.....into your final stead,
will i no longer feel that aura about me,
as that would inflict great pain on this heart,
like long rusted nails thru' my arteries;
tell me love.....you'll not be far away.
poem by Frank James Ryan Jr.
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Good Friday Reflections
The wind is calm. The aura sweet.
The thunder came. The thunder went.
I like this time of year
when things get done
invisibly, when
everything, young
and wet is hanging
by a leaf. The saviour
Jesus hasn't dimmed
for two thousand easters,
Nature hasn't receded.
(Eyes still think they see
softly wrapped in silk
and spun into simile.)
I like this time of night,
traffic faces all directions
and the pouting moon
has no reflection.
The wind is calm. The aura sweet.
The thunder came complete.
poem by James Kendrick
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(Falling Today) As Less Smart
A word reminds me why I feel so less than strong
Struggle as I feel I can't stand up ever so tall
A way leaves me feeling much less bolder
Yet I know that I'll never be like a Casanova
A time denies these stages
Deciding that it's best that I begin to cry from afar
But for now your aura continues to be colourful
Now falling today as less smart
A memory shows me each of all of your old lies
For that's the way you are and leaving me feeling further blind
A way shows I dunno who to even be
A word shows that you're not sure who to be
A time denies these stages
Deciding that it's best that I begin to cry from afar
But for now your aura continues to be colourful
Now falling today as less smart
For I have been left feeling furthermore so dumber
Got nothing to clutch
A way it happens so easily to me as it happens often as such
A time denies these stages
Deciding that it's best that I begin to cry from afar
But for now your aura continues to be colourful
Now falling today as less smart
Nah, nah, nah, nah
Nah, nah, nah, nah
Nah, nah, nah, nah
Today as less smart
Nah, nah, nah, nah
Nah, nah, nah, nah
Nah, nah, nah, nah
poem by Rich Downes
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An Elusive Thing
We talk of beauty. Such an elusive thing.
How does one define it.
Everything has it, in some degree or other, even you and me,
which makes one reflect.
Is it what is seen or what is felt.
An inner concept,
or something that is only visible on the surface.
Who can tell.
Perhaps there is no answer to what is attractive, or how it attracts us,
As one person glimpses it, another sees nothing.
Maybe a meeting of 'like' spirits, an aura, a certain smile, an action,
an awareness, a perception.
We all see it in different shapes and forms.
I believe that beauty is from the soul, shining through a persons's essence.
An energy both intellectual and emotional, connected to the power of love.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Energy
Every person has a spirit
Which means they can receive
Also release therefore
When you walk into an room
Are you aware what you teach?
What aura do you bring?
Because,
your energy transcends
The energy
intertwines a powerful
blend
We all have an regal calling, an
expected end
For our time on earth is simply precious
So, Let's decide to win
poem by Angel A. Lockwood
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Hatha Yoga
No kind of physical exercise
is superior to Hatha Yoga.
It gives you suppleness and sturdiness
It cleanses systems and stimulates glands
It preserves will-power and reserves energy.
It conserves stamina and retains youthfulness
It expands aura and adds to personality.
Then women can like you at any age.
What more?
06.05.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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An Aura about the Sun
There is an aura about the sun
On this late winter's day as
Snow falls from castles in the sky-
Invisible clouds shall not obliterate the sun-
In my most startled moment,
I would look down from
My stance upon a purple mountain peak-
Purple transforms to magenta as
A ray of hope shines
Downward and mysteriously about-
I see reflections of copper- hued branches in the creek below-
Upon trees seemingly awakening from a passionate night amidst the darkness-
In the bitter coldness of the season's end-
Branches so like arms reaching towards the sky-
Decorated with snow and bending in the wind as
Would ballerina dancers upon a stage of oblivion-
Not knowing what the next moment in time shall bring?
There is an aura about the sun and
The snow keeps falling-
Crocuses trying to hide their blossoms from the late winter's chill-
Yesterday the sun rose and cast its shadows about the mountainsides-
Purple mountains and magenta reflections in the creek in all of its
Crystalline clarity have never looked so striking
Even stones polished by rushing water rapids- and grasses sparkle in the dew-
I have found my place in this world so vast, and so majestic- yet so ethereal,
Alone with the trees and nowhere to hide-
No need to hide because I have escaped reality-
In the real world mountains have never been purple-hued and
Reflections never magenta-crocuses never emerge and blossom on
A cold winder's twilight-
There is an aura about the sun and I listen to the voices
Chanting baritone melodies inside the fortress of my mind-
Others may say that this is none but a delusion, although
I do not recognize their disparagement -
I have lost myself in a world of fearlessness and
I find nothing intimidating in this land of my dreams-
It has been said that dreams often never come true but
I have carried my dreams inside of my mind to the peak of
Purple mountains glowing beneath the moon at midnight and
The sun as it rises at daybreak- nobody shall unlock the door to my madness
My dream has come true and I shall never escape-
I have painted a picture inside of my mind and here in my solitude
I have escaped the pain of veracity as
I chant my own special melodies, though in silence.
There is an aura about the sun and I am proud to say it shines light
Upon the essence of my dreams, illuminating a path before me
Upon which I can walk -I can walk further and further from all that threatens-
Where there is no place to hide and no need to hide
As the snow keeps falling from invisible clouds and
Fantasy has never appeared so magnificently regal….
poem by Claudia Krizay
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I think people believe that I give ant aura of someone who has both feet on the ground.
quote by Joe Morton
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Varied And Intense
Enriched my office world with two new
flowers, soft purple with yellow centre
and small, unassuming yellow sprig,
exuberance of spring in my life
Adding pink to the passionate orange
flowery explosions next to my desk
was a mistake, a pink cobweb scarf
with silver thread does not work
The colours of my aura probably are
varied and intense to demand such
an array of colours around me, I'm
happy; may this feeling continue
Until I go home today, I need strong
emotion to help me through this
dark shadow in my head…
13 September 2012
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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I never had that star aura.
quote by Lauren Holly
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Never Is Forever
Chained before the change, i am absorbed into the shade of faint - Painted to last by portrait, pictured to the brush - Morning to dawn, savage is the start of day - Life consumes energy, worn as a dress - The aura to be seen, circles around the moon -
Prevent the explosion, inside my mind, the chemical storm - Captured by the voice of violence, ignored into the death of silence - The trilogy of the square, my shadow seized, trapped inside a nightmare - Wake, before the break, never is forever in too late
poem by Unic Cjonr
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The Third Eye
The third eye grants a knowledge divine
says a Sanskrit Manuscript, with the light
of a million lustrous suns, today scientists
suppose the pineal gland to be the third eye
White and grey tissue, pea-sized, cone-shaped,
buried at the back of the skull on the brain’s mid-
line; primitive, light-sensitive, producing hormone
melatonin - melanin pigment for skin/hair colouring
Manufactured from serotonin, a chemical in the pineal
enabling rational thought, when blocked by LSD, man
suffers schizophrenia and hallucinations – the pineal
gland affects body processes and the emotions
Lobsang Rampa said when the third eye opening was
made in his head, the pineal gland enabled him to see
the aura – the angry red flames spurting from violent
people - I am glad I cannot see that
Though I would have loved to see the pure golden aura
around the heads of the holy – and the purplish blue
around the truly spiritual…
‘The Reader’s Digest Book of Strange Stories,
Amazing Facts’, Reprinted July 1977
“The Eye of Enlightenment” - Mystery inheritance
from our remote ancestors - pp 44 & 45
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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