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Posts Tagged ‘poet’

What if the words we create

have everything to do with what we see

and how we experience this life?

What if the ways we have learned to love

have the ability to shape and shift

our own sense of reality?

What if our minds are just an operating system

left asleep or on some sort of autopilot,

awaiting for an awakening of an endless amount of senses?

What if we have the ability

to be everything beyond the limitations

we create?

What if our barriers are invisible,

our dreams boundless,

our spirits blinding in brightness?

What if this space is a place of vastness,

filled up with the crystallized stardust of our past

and the untold blackness of the future?

What if it is all available to us?

It is no wonder that we often smother ourselves

in stories and shames.

It is this responsibility, this gift,

that can be as much a burden

as a beauty.

It has everything to do

with how we choose to

move to the music

that makes up our lives.

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Through a small space between the blinds

sunlight seeps in this room for rent.

Blinding in its excitement

and open with opportunity

my spirit is flooded

with a feeling of freedom.

These lines between the wood

move with a life given to them by the wind.

Elements are working in unison here,

a harmony,

a music not heard

but instead seen.

And I sit here

lucky in love and in life,

able to see and feel

within a single moment

that there is life within life.

It is all so endless.

Laughter rises quickly from my belly.

 

The mathematics of this magical experience

are forever for us to create

and reshape.

A structureless form

waiting and wanting always

to dance with the love

that rests in your lone, loving heart.

 

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In the passing parade

a girl smiles.

I stop and take a

moment to marvel.

On center she waves,

beaming her love light.

A soul unafraid

in an otherwise scared

passing parade.

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Time to stretch, stretch time.

To realign. Redefine.

Lay down. Fall flat on your face.

Now you see the space

a rain can create.

A place of openness

like a field of flowers your fingers can feel.

Sometimes the peddles glow

but sometimes you don’t even

open your eyes to notice

because it feels so good.

You feel so good –

to be alive.

It feels so good

to be alive.

 

 

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Brisk, blue spirits waver around us

like smoke in a closed off room.

Shutters are drawn, dust is swirling,

cars hurrying.

They linger amongst us like the fragrance of a flower,

like sweet smiles

and your tender laugh.

Among this audience they sit,

these blue bastards brooding

with their subtle shaking hands–

another silence lost to the space.

Like oil erasing the horizon of a highway,

we notice this all.

Of course we do,

but what will we do?

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In a soft and fragile voice you seem to be screaming at the world,

with wide eyes full of fire and fears

and a sharp nose to match.

Like a lone boat afloat in the middle of the ocean,

rocking and rotting.

Waiting in vain and pulsing with pain.

Powerless and ablaze.

Even your bullets are bleeding.

And your heart needing. Your love fleeting.

And amongst all of this mess is a beauty inside you,

glowing like crystals in a cave.

You know this.

I know you do.

But take as much time as you need sweet one.

Let the world love you as you begin to remember

again.

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If these walls defeat you,

break this space between you,

and walk on water

to the center of

the Pacific Ocean.

Let wet drops drip from the tips of your hands.

You are surrounded by all and only blue

and for a few moments

you are left dizzy,

but not dizzy like an adult.

Dizzy like a child.

You fall completely

into the deep blue sea,

like a dream, becoming.

But falling feels like flying

and breathing and dying

seem the same too.

The eternal irony.

When you’re surrounded, surrender.

Surrender to the power

of what a moment can help you to remember.

There is an Ocean inside you.

And an Ocean inside me. It is in all of us.

We are infinite,

and endlessly becoming.

Just remember.

Surrender,

remember.

 

 

 

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