'A poet can survive everything but a misprint.' ~Oscar Wilde
She passed just before my 18th birthday,
a rites of passage signalling my womanhood.
So close she left behind a present
and her intentions to be with me.
I opened it as though a gift from heaven,
my heart grieved her,
as she gave me her's from beyond,
a pink love heart imprinted with
It sang to me the lyrics of the song,
'I've got so much honey, the Bees envy me'
never failing to make me smile.
Occasionally I hear this song,
and I feel her loyal love
her unconditional embrace as the music plays
'I've got a sweeter song
than the birds in the trees...'
The lyrics sum her up,
full of sunshine on a cloudy day.
So far and yet so near,
I know a different kind of closeness.
She had to leave,
but her message remains,
and her heart lives in me now.
...I couldn't love you anymore.
A cloud formed into a shape
As the sky lit a backdrop of pink.
Painting pictures in November skies,
of a love heart made of white clouds,
I felt this cloud inside,
my chest full of fluffy air,
as light as this fleeting cloud.
A reminder this moment was
to allow the sky to open my heart,
and paint me pictures of love.
What if everything is already a memory
just waiting to be re-remembered?
How can I blame you for something I'm yet to love in me,
when loving you is loving me why would I want to deny you
by just wanting fragments, the best parts, the most loving pieces,
the beauty I already cherish, why would I want to halve you, tame you, restrict you..
Hating you is ignorant, an ignorance that nags deeper down
because in my truth I know it could never be so.
I no longer bear such naivety, my ignorance just pains from the times it forgets
to see myself in your shadow. To remember to keep sight of the reflective truth,
and to know my own self critic and my own denial.
And in this reflection I'm learning to love
the things which I have yet to love in me.
I could continue the denial that it's you, it's not me!
But deeper in my truth I know this isn't true,
you reflect me in all my ways, the one's I celebrate,
and the one's I try to hide.
I fall in Love with you who mirrors my light
but I want to fall even deeper with you who mirrors my darkness,
knowing I am both in the matter that binds together.
And when the light is matched and the dark is equaled,
I'll return to a space of acceptance,
encircled by something much greater.
Unleash me from my restraint,
feel what the eye cannot, with hands that hold less,
caressing more that's shy.
Resistance is a weed stunting the possibilities of us, our nature,
and the sun that resides in us all.
When we let go
we always move forwards.
And when we hurt we grow,
to a place that isn't initially seen,
as holding on doesn't want to recognise
you're no longer there.
The illusion of resistance crumbles
when we empty our hands,
when our hearts tell our minds
Just let go,
here we regain the power of trust,
and the wild playground of our lives
prove joyful again.
To extend out with all we have
knowing this reach has reversed equally.
Dropping the weight like a stone
surrendering in the sea of life,
expanding further still as we sink,
knowing that holding on to that
which resists so much
is not ours to be held,
we are not to remain stunted
in a state of tug of war.
life around us says so,
we are to learn and beautify
as we rise,
as we fall
We mustn't resist.
And so we are,
so we shall be
....Trust in the universe I hear through a whisper that echoes through my consciousness. Listen to the music weaving its symphony around us, bestowing its magic for us to marvel in its divine beat. Up and down as a wave travelling in the ocean of oneness never forgetting the source of its originality. Open and breath to the wonder of the flow, the flower and it's opening, the bud and the seed of its vision that promises to blossom when the heart is able to open to its capacity. All created with the intention that one day in the most perfect circumstance our feet shall rest on the very space, the very spot, the destined location that was written across the universe just waiting for us to find the place of trust.....
Do you recognize it
when it's staring you in the face,
even if you cannot manage to see
how does this feeling present itself..
Threading in and out of your words,
between the silences that appear so aloof,
do you speak it with ignorance
when you question if it's left you..
And when one moment creates another
and you feel as though you're an on-going moment
within a cacophony of moments,
how can I find my way back I hear it cry
And when you find it,
when you're heart finds rest,
do you feel me it says...
Do you feel me..
Dear God, Spirit, love,
I write to you with my ego aside,
sitting here present in my heart,
though it’s aching
I've endured it like so,
to know that I must seek deeply
to return to you.
I ask you please,
show me the way forwards,
guide me towards my truth,
as diminished as I feel it to be.
I've felt the night time for so long,
and for this I'm grateful
but I miss the warmth of dawn.
Help me to cradle it back,
to revel in the depths of me.
My heart longs to feel love,
For myself, for you,
for the beloved,
Open me back up to my heart
to feel my truest smile through it’s rays,
to love in the purest of it's beauty,
to dance with a joyful celebration
that I'm here,
that I've come home.
Bittersweet affair is thee,
belonging to heart and mind,
dwelling in both,
Because I don't know which is preferred,
and so often I'm questioning which is real.
Together they make One
and yet alone they exist.
Bitter is a death
mourning every lover
reminiscing the good times
raising a glass to past tense.
Cutting with feeling that once seeped life,
as though spring had 4 seasons
but winter just had to arrive,
and I don't know if I should celebrate the loss of summer.
In every fall
love can cure
and RIP us apart.
The fall is transitory
giving us a season to find our footing,
to celebrate or grieve
as this love passes away,
to give birth to new ground
and I don't know if I should celebrate a new beginning.
It's getting over the ghost of the past,
those magnifying visions that move back and forth,
the deceiving and grieving
that life wouldn't die before.
I thought I saw myself running
and now I have baby feet again..
Do we walk away from the promises,
how the heart sung,
whatever the weather,
simply because love was there..
If only I could hold an umbrella to shelter my doubts
to companion me through the forest of my mind,
But what do we do with the showers within?
When the skies within our being can no longer rotate,
who shall orbit our hearts?
Though I'm questioning
I pray that bitter doesn't tarnish the sweet.
As stories of love play out for the expectant little girl,
with a love too fierce to be chicken-hearted.
A love just too damn sweet to leave any distaste.
I hope the cynic hasn't taken too much,
because I do still want to believe.
though I am no longer a child,
and these changes bring truth,
somewhere amongst the weeds
and wishful thinking
I'm trying to find reason
and to allow my heart to justify.
A mature heart has a lifetime of heart break within it's pocket..
A constant cycle of break ups and break ins within it's cavity..
Of feeling the sum of all loses surmount..
Of feeling the peak of everlasting love over spill with ageless wisdom..
we close to re-open,
and close again
to pour open even more vulnerably..
and we come full circle
to know that only a cracked heart,
can allow a deeper love to seep through,
to permeate even more profoundly.
That only an empty heart
has the capacity
to fill itself to it's fullest once again
Having endured growing pains
the young girl is taller,
fuller and deeper.
Though her reflection may still bring sadness
She looks further still,
to see that everything is temporary
come what may,
this truth shall prevail.
If beauty didn't ever feel ugly
and doubt didn't ever warp,
how could she possibly know
how beautiful her medicine would prove to be,
how her healing would broaden her
with a thousand shades of colours.
Nobody said she wouldn't never again feel hurt,
that she would not ever again endure yet more pain,
but now the woman’s grown to marvel
and her thorns.
and knowing that one doesn't exist without the other...
Our movements reverberate our inner motions,
we carry ourselves on feet that ask of little,
carrying us places just like our minds do.
Yet sometimes we fail to see,
the physicality of life’s movements
are just a disguise
to fool ourselves to believe
that we do not live from the inside out.
As though when we walk,
the movement from within doesn't move us first..
As though the inner swaying you
had no participation and is not yet present
in every passing and to be reached footstep..
When in truth,
Our spirit carries us,
we are more than just a body.
If a road is a metaphor for life's travels,
what kind of a life are we walking on,
towards, away from?
Which roads are uncrossed,
left open to chance?
And which do we hold so dear wishing they would re-appear..
How much do we walk with?
What is walking with us..
and how many times shall we catch sight of the ghosts of our shadow selves,
waiting to be acknowledged,
on whichever path we may be stepping upon now..
Our footsteps imprint parts of us,
we deepen our connection to this earth and to ourselves,
whenever and wherever we walk.
And even though we do forget,
we are indefinitely held,
tenderly or aggressively,
We fall and still remain.
So how heavy are our footsteps,
How light our hearts?
Swinging in and out,
our limbs gesticulate that all we put in we shall get out.
What is your aim?
How does your body speak?
Because that which moves us
keeps us moving..
Whether we walk with practicality or adventure
our thoughts travel as do our toes
So how do you balance the inbetweens..
How do we manage the freedom
or restriction we breath into these bodies..
Through the peace within our minds
And all those dusty confines
I just want to know what is it you're all walking towards
when I see you all moving..
Who walks with you when you're lonely,
or during the company of your own two feet,
do street bulbs comfort through your darkness?
Do you manage to find light within the shade
when clouds thicken as a trick to disguise the sun..
What is the meaning of your movements...
or complexly, fleeting or fixed,
fed or unknown,
symbolic of every footfall.
Because I just want to know,
what are all those intentions that walk with,
within and besides you?
Connection comforts us with a warm sense of familiarity,
a piece of home we look to find and know,
in all of these reflective eyes that stand before us.
Some have searched their entire lives,
as though a sea of people have moved through them
because this constant searching for completion in another is a set up
for heartbreak if we can never truly dwell within our own flow.
If we believe another is all we need to make us feel
we will always be looking with eyes that forget how to close.
This love shall be false
nullified by our own lack of wholeness.
I´ve felt angry,
betrayed and hurt within the seas of such love.
All this unnecessary aching due to my own foolishness,
We are the only ones who make ourselves suffer.
We betray ourselves through a lack of self love,
through our own sense of incompletion.
Because I no longer know the meaning of lonely.
Just uncontained with all the love inside of me
unfulfilled by the door un-opened from within.
It´s our choice
we decide to not feel.
Many times I was foolish,
believing love had given me up,
resigned and blew away
just like the echo that journeys
when the wind moves in the trees.
Those winds carried many of my ideals
and I was just yet to open to this unlimited supply
not matter what or who goes by...
I hadn´t noticed until I closed my eyes
that Love stood unwavered
just waiting for me to re-open to myself.
The branches may´ve altered
leaves certainly died,
but my trunk
always my core.
As Love is a door
that´s opened from within
and then lends it´s opening
to be explored
to be entered
Boxes carrying my life sit ahead of me
with items, posessions and things
Some things are 'worth money'
others are of sentimental value,
reminding me that every memory rests within.
Does it not?
The remainders are old clothes that teach me how to love myself,
how to cover up from the skin I live in and how to identify with my body.
Does it not?
Why do we hold onto so much of the past when deep down we know
it will never take us anywhere else.
How can we allow our items to help us feel secure
as though attaching our feelings upon them helps us feel more empowered.
Do we find immovable objects more reliable?
Boxes hold so much life
but a life that has no meaning anymore,
of memories that no longer know me,
faces that couldn't recognize even when speaking from my heart.
Boxes filled with times that outlived their hour
and now want to rest peacefully.
I gathered my old baggage,
my outdated things
of meaningless matter
temporarily filling a space
I laughed every item to the door,
as a door these boxes once were
and I stood outside too long.
How much queing up are we actually doing in our daily lives...
What have we become when we're impatiently queing-
our minds are splitting in a thousand directions.
It's no wonder some of us leave our bodies!
We stand in line waiting for a caffeine fix that 'fuels' us,
to de-sensitise us then control us.
The more we que the more we watch the clock-
that clock that feels its escaping us. (The stillness has)
It's no surprise a clock has replaced the visibility of our wrist, our heartbeat,
that pulsating beat that keeps us alive has become submissive to the ticking of a very different rhythm-
to a time that's not even real!
-Yes we are having a human experience,
but we do need to also know that we are more than just consumers!
When YOU are put down and made to feel as though YOU are not good enough..
Please know that YOU are!
Know that this person is reflecting how they feel deep down..
Perhaps they were always told that they are not good enough?
So instead of feeling angry,
know that this is a deep pain for them,
an unconscious wound perhaps.
This is not your insecurity and you should therefore not hold it.
If this person is unhappy and projecting this on you....
Open your heart even brighter and send them love.
Through the eyes of the heart you can see,
the eyes of the bullied bully feel scared too.
That a vulnerable child also belongs
deep within the eyes of the struggling parent.
And underneath it all
Love is all we are
at times we just forget.
Open your heart even brighter and be love,
Because this is what they have missing. ♥
Our hearts are pieces of the sky,
tiny fragments descend in us all,
we look up to feel an expansion within
as our hearts belong above.
Connecting with our beat,
the rhythm of life spills in and pours through,
a vortex of cosmic feeling.
Our God selves.
Why is it so that at our happiest
we recognise such grandeur above
and such feeling dwells equally within...
The night sky cannot be denied
it reflects back consistently,
it is always so,
because we have always been,
Could this be why we stop and stare when the stars shine..
Are we remembering our own magical sparkle?
Because illuminating stars we are,
when we choose to shine.
The black mystery our teacher,
keeping company for the pessimist and chancer.
When we’re in Love,
when we look up,
we want more to take in,
majesty seems closer than ever
Is such a parallel a coincidence?
And when we disconnect from what we are,
when our fire is blown to smoke,
again we look up for answers and guidance,
yet we cannot trust ourselves,
the sky seems too big,
we feel as if we are drowning by a loneliness,
like Lichtenstein’s girl,
unable to salvage our flame.
Could it be why we pray and raise to the skies..
In hope, that our God selves will instil our trust again
Don’t you see, the sky has always remained loyal..
It is us that betrays.
The body is a vessel the heart inhabits,
to work through,
it’s how we identify on a tactile mother earth level,
but if it isn’t our hearts that are most attractive
why do we close our eyes when we kiss..
Why do I dream of my Love inside out
The spirit of the heart is ageless,
memories lie dormant until awakened to such beauty,
Is this why de ja vu exists as a reminder,
In those unfamiliar familiar meetings?
Our hearts are wise,
never failing us,
it is us who choose to neglect and then seek.
We’ve been pained through lifetimes,
Could it be that we chose not to Love ourselves enough?
Choosing a Love that didn’t begin with Love of Self,
Love that didn’t burn outside and inside equally.
So was this neglect not a teaching to Love more?
as though the night sky making Love with Mother Earth,
As though two stars colliding,
Wasn’t this set as an example?
Is this why they say that at our happiest we have stars in our eyes....