Posts Tagged ‘wordpress’

In a cloud covered morning

not yet defined

by the weight of my mind

you sing from the upstairs bathroom.

Your voice is vibrating

throughout a house-

an otherwise pointless structure

of wood and metal and paint and plastic.

But here and now it is becoming something else entirely,

like a butterfly in birth,

a transformation is unraveling before my eyes.

This feeling penetrates my heart

and like a soft yoke, love pours from my insides.

Moments like this replace the first, grey feelings of a new day

with possibility and opportunity.

Purely and simply,

you have made our house a home.


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This giving

is living all around us.

It grows like a breath

and breaks like a wave

that falls back

into itself.

All the harmonious notes of nature

feel warm and full

and circular in shape.

Their oneness dancing always as two.

Even in the deep, frozen seas

there is a warmth.

Like the sloping and sliding waves

that crash and crack before us

or this air that stretches at our bodies,

we are born and taught to take

but it is this giving

that is the stillness within the storm.

The life within the breath.

It is this giving

that is the circular beauty

to living


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Your grassy meadow mouth

drops below the sea levels of sound

and all that is left

are your eyes

and my eyes seeing yours eyes.

And I see now

that there is a solace in being seen so strongly.

Clear and close.

Smiles sit behind you like flowers

nestled softly in a bed.

Everywhere are these smiles

hanging from faces

like lights on a Christmas tree.

Shimmering souls

all in the same place.

Sitting in body but shining in spirit.

For you. For me. For us.

For love.

And then I see your mouth

and that thing happens with your chin as you smile

and I remind myself to be present.

I remind myself that holding moments

is like a hand holding water.

You either lose it or

you just jump in and let it all surround you-

and you end up hold each other

because that’s the only way anything works

but especially water.

And love.


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The dim light in the night

realigns the way a mind

wants to remember a place.

The street slopes differently now

and the river seems wider.

The ground is wet, but not from a rain,

instead there is a faint dew

that lingers in the darkness

above the sidewalk.

And the air has changed completely,

like the opening of a refrigerator

after the dead sweat heat

of a long and lovely summer day.


The places we know best are the ones

that stay always like a stranger


and stand in front of us like a hollow tree,

faking at life

but making at something else.

Art? Maybe.


something that none of us

quiet know about


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Memories and moments of magic

can be taken and shaken by the

pervasive powers of sadness.

There are no exceptions to this it seems.

The lingering ringing in my ears

from a spirit was so strong

went cold in an instant. Nearly forgotten.

Like some dusty old diary.

And all that was left was the sounds of

sirens and the frantic lights of an ambulance

in a hurry and a fury,

in the wee small hours of the morning.

Dreams die without life and love to meet them.

I suppose they are like children in that regard.

Families are broken by the pain of the past,

a pain they all choose to let remain.

Songs are silenced.

Blood betrayed.

In one night

I was swimming in the delight of my dreams,

tasting the fortune of all of my possible futures

to then be left

drowning in a darkness I didn’t create,

other than fate

had something else in store for my soul.

But ever so softly I could still hear

my ears ringing and that strong spirit singing

beyond the sadness,

calling me onward.


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In a dream I saw you

with your eyes sparkling like

all those endless,

bright blue stars above us.

You were the same

with your smile and your mascara.

You were the same

in your essence and your energy too,

and you ran into my arms

like a long lost friend

and we held each other

and whispered words so sweet and deep,

recounting our feelings of fondness.


We never did fall in love

the way we had hoped.

But all those feelings are still with us-

roses left on windshields

and our eyes telling everything.

Soon our embrace was complete

and I walked away from you


and thinking about the past

and how unique it is

that love never leaves us.

It is always available

and we are connected

forever through how we really,

truly feel.


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it is in a broken man

that the beauty of the world

beams most bright,

like some unavoidable ray of sunlight

bursting from behind the clouds.

Sometimes it is the late night, lonely guitar players

and the piss drunk homeless hounds

that howl at the moon

and make the music we need to hear most.

And when we do hear that music,

we cry tears that we have held back for lifetimes.

And even if it is only in a moment,

we let go of our pain and open up more

into ourselves.

Sometimes it is in our mourning that we learn to celebrate,

in our horrors that we find our strength,

in our losing that we find our own love.


we have to dig deep into our own darkness

and sit with the discomfort like a long lost friend.

And sometimes,

it is in a broken man

that the beauty of the world

beams most bright.




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