Until one wet wind-whipped day, the skies low and heavy,
I thought perchance I heard the sound of your voice,
Soft and sweet, riding high above the winds, wild and as one,
With the powers of nature at last as you so wished in life,
And there, barely appearing and disappearing amongst the falling leaves,
Shimmered Hope, so faint, fleeting, fairy-like, gossimer-wings, beautiful and,
Like you from a Magical Realm, another dimension, that I stopped and stared in wonder,
While my ears listened, entranced, as your musical voice whispered,
So urgently, a strange little song: "Helene! Helene! Stop looking for me for I am free!
Up in the tree I may be, or on a flower with a honey bee,
Or swimming through the dolphon sea, or resting under lindon lea,
Or sitting like a child on the Divine One's knee, I have the magic key,
To take me wherever I want to be and that, my dear Helene,
Is where you can find me!
Now go: and find yourself. For you have been gone a very long time."
So softly did Lesley end her sweet rhyme.
Helene