Olive tree standing tall on mountains top high.
Branches moving graciously
in the wind.
Little green leaves shimmering like emerald greens under the sun.
Then came a storm out of nowhere
everywhere flooded
Like Noah’s day.
Born was a sea above the land.
Olive tree hit rock bottom.
Still standing tall.
Branches still graciously moving
on the beat of turbulent waves.
Emerald green leaves now with silvery shine.

The branches of an olive tree are strong
Always moving, bending.
Resilient.
Never breaking.

Be like an olive tree
on the top of the mountain
or under the sea.


Shell✨🐚

I can’t help but giggle
when you come across someone
who just doesn’t get you
and every other word
you both speak
gets lost in the cross wires
neither of your brains have the connection points to

there is nothing of you in this late hour,
i have no voice to wrap you in tenderness,
and i wait for your arrival like a starless sky,
empty of light, the ocean's forgetful voyage,
the sinking wave coaxed to grow out of the dark.
the trees are motionless, branches fall silent in the night,
like ghosts against the sky. i am empty of light,
drawn out of memories and blue air,
a crystal that breaks, bound to the wide earth
and the white dust of immeasurable hills. i think i am
still, small as a bird, and i know that i long for you,
that the hunger never leaves me for long, colouring
dry paper with the gleam of a harbour-like moon.

am I an observer
or a participator,
this life, a reel or real
am I whole, or partial?
this is all surreal
are we living
or watching time spill
doing nothing
rotating in this cosmic realm,
starting where we started,
ending where we end,
rolling the rock up the mountain
watching it fall
traveling back up again.
what is the deal?
we know the prison,
let's dig up the tunnel.


am I a spectator,
or a perpetrator,
this death, a dream or dire,
am I fractured, or entire?
this is all infernal,
are we decaying,
or watching shadows crawl,
doing something,
descending into this chthonic realm,
starting where we're buried,
ending where we're born,
our remains part of the earth,
watching it crumble,
crawling back down again.
what is the ordeal?
we know the freedom,
Are we combusting chemical?

Two steps in and
one step back
the time passes
as a delicate
trance

the bashing of control,
and symphony of freedom
ah this matrix,
has many faces

those who stay alive,
and escape its grasp,
who retain their soul
and sacrifice
nothing

this was the poet,
and his secret power

those who detach,
and transcend from
the structures,
with word
as their potent
sword

keep your freedom,
and stay true to yourself
authenticity has a value
more than a thousand
mountains