I am but a mirror of wordsmith self,
scribing with etheric words.
I walk and pen moves gracefully.
I run and my words move in open corral.
I fly and phases glide inside my dreams.
I breath and visions breath
ready to dance upon page.

With recipe of life,
I colonize mind
setting up red flags
to recognize the ego ingredient that
doesn't blend well
to serve my highest good.

My recipes includes a dash of love,
a cup of swirling dreams and
plenty of seasoning from emotions.

Time to cook and baste my mind
with intention of thoughts.

WALA!
The poem concoction is done.
Feast away readers, feast away

I have become like puppet girl.
moving with strings
infused with voice of ego.

Sometimes, I jump to it’s words
that are void of self love.
Other times, I fall from lack of trust
as strings pulled tight controlling my movements.

Higher still I jump,
serving the voice that veils me from true self.
Higher and higher I move
doing deeds not in the best interest of my spirit.

Until, cords I cut with intent
as my strings become wings of light.
As I glide with no more
a Pinocchio-like nose,
buying my psyche's story.

No more to do the biding
of my ego mind
replaced now with my heart.

I love it when she’s blue,
I love it when she’s gold,
I love it when she’s silver,
I love it when she’s cold,
I love it when she’s quiet,
I love it when she’s bold,
I love it when she’s calm,
I love it when she folds
I love her for her secrets,
I love her for her songs,
I love her for her rights,
I love her for her wrongs,
I love it when she moves me,
When she pulls me,
When she soothes me,
I love it when she’s red,
I love it when she’s gray,
I love it when she’s mine,
I love it when she strays,
I love her for her warmth,
I love her for her stare,
I love her for her depths,
I love her for her care.