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Amy Robson Feb 2013
Have you ever seen the sea?
Not just looked at it
But felt it with your very being

Smelt the air catching it’s salt
Whistling and intertwining with the fresh breeze

Listened to the waves
As they dance, echoing the silent orchestra of the Moon

Then upward
The sky kissing its horizon
A fusion of everlasting shades of splendor

The birds and insects in their own waltz
Relishing in the currents of the air

Clouds each withholding their own secret
Be it the gift of water, be it a mystery unknown...
Amy Robson Feb 2013
Now
You’ve got to remember that we’re all just energy, vibrations, sensations.
You’re on a journey.
A sensory experience.
Life, experiencing senses.
Senses through the layers.
Layers of form.
Form that harbors feeling.
Feeling that encompasses consciousness.
Consciousness that is part of Universal intelligence.
Intelligence that is Universally connected.
Connected by our intrinsic oneness.
Oneness that is eternal.
Eternally echoed through all life.
Life is what you are until life is no more.
More is what you will see when life is no more.

But, you’ve got to remember, for now, you’re here, now, you’re here, and now, you’re here.

Still here.

Still life.
Amy Robson Jul 2012
A lifeless life.
A walking time bomb.
A dream like state.

Wandering,
Roaming,
Unknowing,
Unconscious,
Unwilling,
Di­ssatisfied,
Uncomfortable.

Masked and suffocated and self-destructive.
The palms of your own, quashing, compressing and restricting
Your own
The natural body
The beautiful mind
The connection.

Snapped.
Amy Robson Jul 2012
Merely sounds
Shapes
Noises

Echoes of serenity
Devastation
Life

Is it the truth we seek from them?
Or is it their inverted exterior that keeps us at bay.
A certain unsatisfied fictitious satisfaction.

It’s okay.
Isn’t it?
We can all be ignorant together.
Amy Robson Jul 2012
A bee is a bee.
Just to be. As a bee intended to be.
A wasp, but a wasp
The shadow
The other
The disillusioned brother
Is not quite how it was meant to be.

Being the bee, to be the bee,
Bumbling, life, freedom, truth to see.
Or to be to be the wasp
Facing anguish, loathing, avarice and loss.

It is not the fault of the bee or the wasp
But it is the energy from others
The fallacy that is our world
It is the ego, the cost.

To **** another for food, for power
Sounds familiar.
Or to love the earth, and feed from the flower.
The nectar of life is rich and sweet
Take not the straight road
But walk with ease, swerve, dance, use your feet
The now has come – we must make a choice

Would you rather bee or a wasp?

— The End —