The number seven is what I call a sacred number, with symbolism in spirituality, nature and human psychology. The jesuits said: “ give me the child until seven and I give you the man.” Indigenous cultures plan for seven generations into the future. There are seven celestial bodies observable to the naked eye. The moon has seven phases.

As we start a seven year cycle at this next full moon in Capricorn on June 29th, I’m looking into the future with my third eye and feeling with my mystics heart where we might land by 2033. What is our destiny? What will we have built together which will stand the test of time?

Proud to be Portuguese is a vision for a blue print. The blue print is the architectural drawings for an edifice which is a real - and not imagined - citadel of HOPE. A sacred circle where fellows gather, and perennially strengthen the bond of what unites their hearts. Trust, truth, and agape love is the glue like elixir which binds us.

In 2033 I will be 73 years old. I don’t know where I will be living, the clothes I will be wearing or the pictures and poems I will have painted. My hair will be more grey, and my features more like the grandmother I hold in my minds eye daily. My eyes will continue to shine. My hands will continue to touch and hold with the tenderness of the God within. There will be fading and letting go. There will be embracing and loving more.

Let all who read this article, pause at this point on the path and imagine who you might be and what you might have built by 2033. It’s a salient practice which challenges your imagination and your hearts desire. What is your mission? Can it be accomplished?

I wrote this poem at my pause point on my path. Unity is my deep hope for us all. The agape love I call bliss and experience, when I sit with the dying and witness the grief of friends and feel the strength of the spirit of fire hold the precious life force in us all. Birth, death and rebirth. Our souls are eternal. We are constantly transitioning and transforming.

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙃𝙮𝙢𝙣 𝙤𝙛 𝙐𝙣𝙞𝙩𝙮
𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘴,
𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭,
𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘨𝘪𝘧𝘵 𝘸𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘤 - 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘴 𝘸𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘴,
𝘐𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘦.
𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘴 𝘸𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘰𝘸 - 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵’𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘴 𝘸𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘳.

𝘚𝘰 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘮𝘺 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳
𝘚𝘰 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳
𝘞𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘶𝘴𝘵.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘸𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘰𝘯 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘴,
𝘐𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘭𝘺.
𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘦 - 𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘦 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘮𝘣 𝘶𝘱 𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩.