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Posts Tagged ‘poetic’

All of this matter seems to matter more

than these moments built out of magic.

Embedded behind our open eyes

is a world wide web,

not connected through cords and cables

but our energy and our emotions.

Let the voice beneath our senses

inform us and guide us.

Let our knowing be led from a place

not built by hands but hearts.

Let our love drive our actions

and let us experience the magic

deep in the toes of our souls.

 

All this matter matters

more when you give yourself away.

The strength of your spirit rests

in the resilience of your faith.

You already know the truth.

You have always know it.

So much of your time

here

is just about

remembering and releasing

and resting in the warmth of your heart.

 

 

 

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Who were we before this black screen bore its birth?

Before the crystallized asses and the political passes

settled in.

Before the highway lost it’s shape and the open road

of freedom was found with pudgy fingers and

minds melted in moments of escape.

Who were we back when?

When the trails were unpaved

and the maps were unfinished.

When our minds were curious

and our hearts hungry

for those big things in life

called love?

Who were we then?

And what now is left of our

beautifully broken dreams,

built on nothing?

What is left

for us

to mess up?

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Let us bring back the broken things

and mend our hands from the glass

cut curses of a past we can’t quite remember.

Let us quiet out the streets and the bed sheets

covered in our oil and sweat,

worn away by all the walking, and the talking, and the taking.

Let us be who we are now

by being who we were then;

a friend, a song, a drop of rain.

Let us clear out the closets

with the clutter and the dreams

given to us by strangers who never really cared at all.

Let us be free,

whatever that means.

It has always sounded like the closest thing to home I’ve ever heard.

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In whispered words

we heal the wounds

washed on the shores

of our hearts.

With a gentle touch

we feel the fears

left alone

to kill creation.

With soft eyes

we see the shame

we built when

we turned away.

In the sweet silence

we all know

what we must do

to be ourselves.

Let yourself be guided

by your senses,

let yourself trust and let go.

In this unfolding

is who you have always been

and who you’ve been chasing.

 

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It had been awhile since we had seen each other last.

It had been since before I saw my Father pass.

A man that too was once your husband,

all these memories so close, now gone so sudden.

But this was no time for sadness or sorrow,

this was a time of love and union and tomorrow.

Just as there is a time for sunsets and mourning,

there too is a time for celebration and dawning.

Before I had come, I thought of one thing-

what I wanted to take away, and what I wanted to bring.

In all the years since I had finally become a man,

I had yet to dance with the woman who was there since it all began.

And in a rare moment only perhaps a full moon could create,

I grabbed your hand to dance and we walked to our date.

We laughed, and we cried, and we gazed as we swayed,

taken up by the moment and those real things that don’t fade.

I swear you saw him for a moment when you looked in my eyes,

and a part of you smiled and lit up the skies.

I watched as I saw something magical unfold,

on the beaches of your pain, a grain of sand turned to gold.

I know buried deep there is a sadness inside you,

where you blame yourself for things you did and didn’t do.

Perhaps it’s a story I am now telling myself,

that I helped for an instance heal a wound back to health.

Or maybe it was his way of saying from the other side,

he’s sorry he hurt you, and he knows how you tried.

All in one moment, I got and I gave,

what I had wanted to bring back, and take away.

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There is a glass between us,

bent and broken perhaps,

from a past long forgotten.

Fragments of faded feelings

and lost moments gleam across

our lives like light atop a lake.

In the way atoms only appear to touch,

we are fools to this friction.

Played out in tangled up tones.

In words and thoughts that have

to take their time to

become something more,

a sweet surrender to silence

settles in my bones.

I feel different now.

Like words from a story

that once put us to sleep

the past is left in pictures

we now keep.

Still there is this glass between us

and in this way and so many more,

I see you and

how once upon a time

we danced together,

I yours, and you mine.

 

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In all of your words

and in your own ways

you have shed your feelings here.

Tears watering soil.

Like a farmer

I have harvested and plowed

these fields,

trying with my bare hands

and my hungry heart to nurture your land.

But now,

in the barren and broken Winter

a solace and a silence have settled here.

I continue still my labor of love

for this land,

even as my hands crack cold

and my heart aches.

The Winter winds blow past

these empty trees

and keep whispering to me a question

I don’t know how to answer.

I listen still.

If words are weapons,

what are feelings?

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