the pull to your core riles my attention
the pull is dedicated, though not to you.
your core is what I'm after.
you represent an immature version
of us, I add in my growth and we
continue to develop.

though you are merely a fraction,
we are spread far. the pieces
rile my attention, create a tunnel
that emblazons my affection for myself.
for us all. in each meeting,
I am looking for you.
my thoughts are captured
in the essence of the trueness of everything,
the fragility, the permanence of nothing.
flowing in this interaction, the balance.

it seems life must be short.
my daughter calls me to live long,
I wake each day to embrace another chance
to sit in myself, in this body,
to witness this vantage point.
I get lonely in here, my tribe spread thin.
I know that the energy of
the spread of a galaxy realigns us constantly.
we create the things that communicate to
hear our own memories.
and I am just thankful,
all other emotions lacking substance.

like a young child from a fresh lesson,
the ones that spark imagination
that takes them through the
next 10 years,
giddy, cheesy grin,
self realization. it makes the universe unfold
at your eyes.

and its not my prize to claim,
its my birthright to claim.
I, the expression of
the music of the spheres,
the dances of the strings,
the whole of things.
expression to witness the pure glory
of things…pure.

the excitement overthrows
all the shadows of the world.
their existence, Im fully aware of.
personally. emotionally attuned.
they exist because of the Sun,
there is no getting away from
and so I can just allow them to be.
when they creep over me,
I hold high, as I know they always pass…
or I am dead, and the glory of that
is only of my imagination,
I do think of. I wonder if feeling
still exists. though I take my time to verify…

open towards the sky, child.
open towards the sky.

entries in my diary
ears to receive me
heart aching for its twin
to be reborn, again.
writing to free the spirit
trapped within,
bubbling, overly enthusiastic
overly sensitive, disconnect
from day to day functions.
entries in my diary keep me speaking.

I see them, those young kids
MCin, that distant look in the eye
that drift off, the switch took place.
words of other worlds.
its the space that I feel safe,
where my screams of ecstasy
are embraced, my moans to the moon,

my voodoo prince, is it the life to live…
I'd either stay in til the 2nd premonition,
or become addictive, set in trance
by the intensity of the chant. not
ever ready to come back,
wishing my children lived there too.

I'm down to visit, or create
a village.

because when she loves
she does it with her heart
she leads with her soul

because when she speaks
listening seems wise
her tone keeps your attention

because she creates
her spirit sings brightly
she sees the undertones

to be a piece of the sea
you must
flow freely