Meditate and look into the cauldron of daydreams and become the fairytale traveler of your twilight fantasies.

Toss a coin into the fountain of dreams, to make a votive offering to the gods and goddesses, and “act as if,” it’s already done!

Listen to the rustling of autumn leaves, and allow your soul to resonate, and drift among the festival of harps.

Daydream about legends, castles and waves crashing against the misty Cliffs of Moher, celtic myths, and angels of the fall.

Live in gratitude everyday for the power of your wishes, and bounty!

I am divinely supported by the Universe in every area of my life — always!

I am grateful!

Bi Liom by Moya Brennan (Clannad)



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Homer and His Guide, by William-Adolphe Bouguereau (1825–1905), portraying Homer on Mount Ida, beset by dogs and guided by the goat herder Glaucus (as told in Pseudo-Herodotus)

Homer is the author of the Iliad and the Odyssey, and revered in the Greek world as the greatest ancient epic poet.

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The Abduction of Helen, with Aphrodie directing by Francesco Primaticcio (1530–39)

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The Burning of Troy by Johann Georg Trautmann (1759/62)

Here is a trailer of one of my favorite Helen of Troy films starring Jacques Sernas as Paris, and Rosanna Podeste as Helen.

The full movie of The Odyssey starring Armand Assante as Odysseus, and the soundtrack is absolutely beautiful.


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Virgil Reading the Aeneid to Augustus, Octavia, and Livia by Jean-Baptiste Wicar

Publius Vergillus Maro known as Virgil was an ancient Roman poet of the Augustan period.  He is traditionally ranked as one of Rome’s greatest poets, and known for three major works of Latin literature.  The Eclogues or Bucolics, the Georgics, and the epic Aeneid.

The Aeneid is modeled after Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey, and follows the Trojan Aeneas’ exile as he struggles to fulfill his destiny and arrive on the shores of Italy, to become the founder of Rome.

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The Barque of Dante by Egene Delacroix

In the poem, Divine Comedy, Virgil journeys with Dante through the vestibule of hell and purgatory depicted as nine circles of suffering located within the Earth.

Who better to travel through Hell with you than a poet?  Poets reach into the deeper realms of suffering to retrieve the inner depths of the divine world.

Who would you choose to accompany you on your earthly journey?




Kabir was a 15th Century Indian Poet, and mystic from the ancient movement Bhakti that swept across India as rebellion against religious orthodoxy and caste distinctions.  The movement propagated peace, harmony and love.

The name Kabir comes from the Arabic “al-Kabir,” which means “The Great” – the 37th name of God in Islam.

Kabir left a body of poetical work available today in several dialects.

Enjoy the poetic rhythm of Business Class Refugees.  A collaborative cross-cultural, and global effort of meditative perfection and spiritual vocals inspired by the poetry and songs of Kabir.

Relax and experience a deeper understanding of the cultural search for higher ground!




SEASON of mists and mellow fruitfulness,

Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;

Conspiring with him how to load and bless

With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;

To bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees,

And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;

To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells

With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,

And still more, later flowers for the bees,

Until they think warm days will never cease,

For Summer has o’er-brimm’d their clammy cells.

Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?

Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find

Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,

Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;

Or on a half-reap’d furrow sound asleep,

Drows’d with the fume of poppies, while thy hook

Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers:

And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep

Steady thy laden head across a brook;

Or by a cyder-press, with patient look,

Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.

Where are the songs of Spring?  Ay, where are they?

Think not of them, thou hast thy music too, —

While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,

And touch the stubble plains with rosy hue;

Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn

Among the river sallows, borne aloft

Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;

And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;

Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft

The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft;

And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.