In The Celestial Garden

The Celestial Garden occupies an enormous
area in the center of the Celestial Universe.

Residing in the innermost
sanctum of universal thought
where lost souls gather and fairy dust makes

Confined within a sphere of energy,
not a planetary existence,

The home of the Crystal Moonlight
intercepting lost love;
decides to reunite,
or leave lost souls to seek, and maybe
never find.

Within the Crystal Garden
far from the Crystal Moonlight
resides the Land of Guerneville
where fairies live,
provide the dust,
not cosmic…fairy, to renew.

Fairies grouped into sections
each having only one color of wings
never know one another,
believe they are the only fairies in
the Crystal Moonlight.

Each section
unknown to the other
maintain their own sphere
using the same rules to govern,
live, and develop their magic.

The home of Little Joanie,
the most famous, of all Fairies’.

These creatures are
human like except they have
pointed ears, have wings,
are very small, and live
one thousand years
or more.

It is a land
divided into other
lands ruled by
Fairy Kings and Queens.

They are peaceful
and have never warred.

There has never been a murder
in their over two million year history;
they are unique among all minions
in this wonderful Land of Guerneville.


Crystal Moonlight

hidden deep in the Celestial Garden
originating from
the Crystal Moon,
centered to gather lost loves
hoping for retribution

A place where heartbreak looms
sometimes forever
the love of light extinguished

for the fortunate few
an awakening of new hope
a gift few receive

the Crystal Moonlight
hears the “Songs of Sorrow
waits the verse “Song of Great Happening”
denoting she is not unforgiving
grants a reunion for those who seek lost love

it is a place of dreams
where love is gathered
to be returned
only when
loves glorious passion reunites
lost love

now, the Crystal Moonlight
shines in love
opens her arms
receives from the Celestial Garden
true loves desire
awakening lost love
she unites willing souls
granting hope for retribution
for loving parent’s
sons and daughters

hidden in the Crystal Moonlight
the Celestial Garden
release lost loves
from the Celtic Moon
journeying forward to
discover destiny


two emerald coals
floating eight inches
from the floor.
blink off,
gone on padded paws.

Sandy Benda©December 2016
Written 1962

The Stupid Person

A stupid person
will never
to an
intelligent person
the stupid person
knows everything

What My Sacrifice Means To You

        I do not think about dying
I am young and defiant
I put my life at risk daily
          I do not think about dying
I believe in my mission
I trust those I serve
I do my duty diligently, without fail
          I do not think about dying
I accept great risk
I am an American fighting for Americans
I am one of the 1%
I protect the rights and lives of the 99%
who do not serve in the military
          I do not think about dying
My flag gives me strength
strength to endure another day
symbolization is my motivation
My flag is worn on my uniform
she is with me every day
          I do no think about dying
her beauty lies in her thirteen stripes,
representing thirteen original colonies
she displays colors of red and white on a field of blue
red for hardiness, and valor
the white signifies purity and innocence
the blue for  vigilance, perseverance and justice
with fifty white stars,
one for each state for unity
all qualities for which we stand
those that define us as a nation
as an individual
it is not just a flag
it is you
          I did not think of dying
I have lived out my days
I did my duty
I represented you with honor and distinction
I died for your right to accept or reject patriotism
to remove the you from American symbolism
and eventually from a nation
          I did not think of dying

I think about what my sacrifice means to you


It Matters Not

as we move through time,


knowing the days

are numbered



continue on

as if,

it matters not


those gone before

most forgotten

a few

elevated to be remembered;

the achievements,

the monuments,

the works of art

and literature

all forgotten

when time continues unabated


when there is no reclamation

of the dust

once called earth,


when we

no longer  move

through time

it matters





The world was young And so was I But time has stolen My youth And hope I thought that all was Good and kind But now I see That I was blind

via Blinded — Passion through Poetry