Author: nataliebotero

Learn to Hear Your Angels and Receive an Angel Reading ✨

Are you ready to connect with divine guidance and experience the peace and clarity your angels want to share with you?
Join our transformative group session designed to help you:

✅ Tune into angelic messages with confidence
✅ Strengthen your intuition and spiritual awareness
✅ Receive a personalized Angel Reading for insight and inspiration

Whether you’re seeking answers, comfort, or a deeper spiritual connection, this experience will open the door to a world of love and guidance.

📅 Date & Time: Saturday, November 22nd at 3pm PST/6pm EST
📍 Location: email me for your Zoom link at natalie.botero@gmail.com

Your angels are always speaking—are you ready to listen?
✨ Spaces are limited. Don’t miss this divine opportunity! ✨

Practice letting

Though letting does not premeditate.

As it soars

With beings of light

At the request of Love

As she moves in the

Beauty of the night.

 

Letting the line stay

In front of your dreams,

In the space of your drama,

Your lifelong terror,

Only Seduces Beauty’s retreat

With a fatal error.

 

Letting will move the line’s inertia

To ignite the beauty of your dreams!

Letting shows that even tiny risks

Show abundant yield.

And your movement stunned them,

And you didn’t gun them

You were only doing what you feel.

 

Letting pushed the inertia of the mind

To let your life ignite.

Letting shows tiny risks

Yield abundant.

You’ll see the Love, you have the right

And your movement stunned them.

You overcome them,

By only doing what is real.

 

Let the line

Stay far behind

As beauty calls you

When she’s ready staying home.

You may be far beyond her

Obeying Rumi and the Mystics

And all the movement of your Soul.

                   –thank you to Pablo Neruda

Fantasy

            Of forms far out of reach—

Old loves is

Where even unripe green fruit are rotting.;

Thought of as urgent,

Arrow-nose pointed down and

Forward to their unreachable reaches,

Just blind desire pointing in the wrong direction,

A blindsided end to a parallel life.

 

Be scooped up by the stork and wait, please!

There are stars that have shaped into human form,

The hearts of which were hiding until the night

Of love,

Love of the truest sense, a feeling as unfamiliar

As you’ll ever enjoy,

Eye shapes communicating core ideas,

Searching through their colors,

Only a few times together before the lips are bitten,

The limbs smoothed, a rarer form of heat

 has risen from your bodies,

Sentences scarcely begin,

Sex is on the automatic pilot of your dreams.

 

Parallel lives only exist on the midnight bed,

Glorious doors closed, a hand to hold instead

Of wishing for death.

 

The hands of this star in human form are there to be held,

Feeling like nothing more will be withheld,

They can see the lies you were told,

Your bogus childhood idealizations,

Your artistic talents, of course……

A coupling of mad peacemakers

Already older and wise at the end,

As home, embodied, the only temporary

Is life—not us.

 

Eternal love understood us,

Wanted us, pushed us to be together.

It never said No, Do this, not yet,

How do you do, or not.

It provoked, it laid in bed with us our whole lives,

It waited for the day

When separation and togetherness

Would fade.

 

Once I realized my time  

To die had come, 

I wanted to weep, 

Like in a hollow husk 

Of an undone hero, 

Bent on the safe 

And rumpled bed. 

I thought I would not stop  

Weeping for the love 

Of myself. 

The sudden join with the departed 

I never thought I would  

Rage against, before seeing  

The face of my God,  

At the sloped corners of my bed. 

I wailed in it as my coffin  

As if already dead. 

Then, I saw the visits of Angels. 

They hid in unlikely spaces, 

Hovering quietly,  

With subtle cues seeming belated. 

Their impenetrable light emanated. 

May it be an arrival, a deliverance, 

Maybe tonight? 

Their mystic message made it so 

That I was at peace to finally sleep. 

The incompleteness of my life 

No longer followed me, it seemed 

Rather to make my life unique. 

Here now, I will exit hidden, 

Through the back door, 

The mention of it to the living, forbidden. 

It meant the opened trap from  

The life we may have meant to be living. 

The place I hope I’m headed 

Is that place where eternal life is given. 

There, the promise too that I will be arisen. 

The place that is called by most, Heaven. 

I make peace with the thought of 

Angels, though my expectations  

Perceive they arrive too late.  

Now trusting the passage  

as I looked up 

At their euphoric light of space 

So to finally, oh finally, 

Look at my Lord in the Face. 

A desperate call for help

Is on both of our faces,

Our brows are furrowed, so

Our hands are full.

 

We lay arms,

So bare hands can move mountains.

The breeze, sometimes

The cold winds of white snow

Exist in our both places.

 

If faith evades us,

We have each other.

Our minds massaged by prayer,

We must remember mountains

With mustard trees

Do not lead to fatiguing dead ends,

 

Though if we choose to feed fear

We are naked again.

We are on the return.