I sat up for endless nights, staring into the imaginary mirror of perfection; just trying to get it right.
See, the mirror once struck fear into my inner ear.
I recall being a mess that year.
Looking into something that was so clear, I didn't understand why clarity showed no signs of being near.
Maybe the glass was fogging up from the steam that would leak from the seams of my pores - the doors to the things that I should feel more.
The numbness was an empty vein, but it sent a shock wave to my nerve endings.
It was in this moment, I knew the rest of my life was only pending.
I hated the message I had been sending.
So I backspaced into a new place with a new face.
When I went back to the mirror, the glass broke.
I listened to the sound of the shatter and it reminded me: I am my last hope.
I am the last note in the song you wrote to everyone who's told you "no".
I didn't know I could be so bold. Or maybe I did, but I had only been told.
I am no more than what I allow my soul to feel. I am no more than what I perceive to be real.
So here's the deal:

I won't conceal this passion until I'm in that casket. And even then, you couldn't bury me, when my legacy is my tactic.
But will you listen to my echoing voice? Will they send you the chills that I feel? Will you understand?

I will scatter my soul in all the grains of sand on which you'll stand, contemplating if you should have ever ran...

- L.G.

It is important that we do not run when the fire within burns hotter than the sun.
If we must face disgrace to reach our saving grace, this is a race we must trust.
We have only begun.
We cannot let our demons chase us down into a corner of misery and confusion.
They always tell is that we are trapped with no solution, but we must break free from this misguided illusion.
Are we to tighten our grip or are we to loosen?
My questions always form from a place that is free of pollution.
I am never diluted.
I run towards the place I used to think I was running from.
I have been running so long, i can feel it in my lungs.
But this is the song that needed to be sung.
I pull and tug on a place that is bound to break.
I always ask myself if I should learn to play it safe.
I may be awake in a dream but these cycles revolved around me, not what you think I should see.
I pull and tug on the rope of love that was hung above when you decided you had been running, long enough.
It reminds me to never give up.
When my lungs are fed up, I know I must get up and remember that with myself, comes trust.
This vessel of love is never undone.
We have only begun.
When it is your time to run, I hope this rings in your ear, crystal clear,
in a place where you discover the face of grace that had always been misplaced, until now.

- L.G

These days, im letting myself fall from all things that bruise me. These days, I'm letting all of these people that knew me, say that they knew me. Like all of the places that chose me, are never spaces that could move me now. These days, they say that they moved me, from something that was true to me. And the truth couldn't be...further than what they could have thrown to me. I'm not new to me. And these days, God and I talk like he pulled Himself through me. And I ask for forgiveness through Him for ever believing that He ever felt unclear to me, or me unclear to Him. For ever distrusting the god in me. I'm sorry you failed to see the deity within me. And that's all I will apologize for. But when I walk my pride to the door, I'll apologize once more. For not being what you thought. For not being what I forgot to be. For seeming to be what I am not. Or...for believing when I ought to doubt. You see, I had to figure it out. Deception being a deflection or a reflection of what I'm about. These days, I'm looking far within and far without. And what it amounts to, makes me want to mount you in a space where I am allowed to dismantle the sounds that you find serenity in. But I am peaceful within, or else I would sin like this. I will let you swim. Backstroke on high hopes, and I have high hopes that you learn from your wrongs. These days, I know the depths of these songs. I sing on and on, until my voice is trembling, explaining why my words are completely gone. These days, I'm moving on.

This lipstick leaves lip prints of memories you could never rinse.
I am embedded in this.
I would never miss a line
that aligns the subliminal signs
that life often lends to me.
Send to me, undying love.
The kind of love
that comes from the clouds above, that come undone.
Rain down on me;
Clear my heart of its emotional drought.
Flood me with hope
in every moment of unwarranted doubt.

This lipstick sticks to the skin and it sinks within.
You will begin to speak me into existence,
as if you knew I was hiding from these shadows, once again.
******* thoughts as you unravel the knots
that leave me tied to your sweet sound.
We will be freely bound,
as we come alive with the tide
that always rushes back around.

This lipstick leaves a stain on the glass that I drank from
that night I allowed my heart to stay vacant,
as I explained the blatant and mistaken memories
that live in my soul's basement.

This is me, reminding you of that view.
The red lipstick that slipped over your heart
when I kissed your scars,
somehow turned blue.
But I am assured
that you already knew...

- L.G.

Have you ever watched it go from so simple to entirely complex,
like in the way you watched me dance in that dress of distress?
...When laying on your chest turned into counting all of your breaths; I heard your heartbeat express everything I could never forget.
Have you ever watched it all bloom beautifully out of its doom, like the shadow in your room that will consume all that you knew, but allows you to move in a motion that can always improve?
You learn to assume that you must remove what was once untrue to you.
For me, I've watched a teardrop turn into a vast sea...
A change in perspective - to see that there is no end to the idea of what could be.
Have you ever watched a ripple turn into a fierce rumble of waves?
Those kind of days where the gaze in your eyes is no longer misplaced in the maze. A certain place where we finally take the stage, leaving a trace of a brave-hearted phrase that we will let seep from our broken cage.
Would you trade everything you've made?
I am back stroking upon the hightide, and i am unafraid to be alive.
I have traveled far away from the shallow waters and taught myself what diving had to offer.
The water seems much softer in this place I have wandered.
Have you ever watched the observer become the one watching yourself?
Everything on your shelf is no longer your wealth, and you become rich in the way you felt the day you would so peacefully melt in a space you comfortably dwelled.
I wonder if you find yourself compelled to face all you have withheld...to watch everything become propelled into another realm of reality.
I wonder when I was upheld in this place where all of these words fell far from out of me.
I reach so I can see everything that I knew I could be...
I am one with the sea, and i swim effortlessly and truly.

If the sky is the limit, then please, tell me where I fit in.
I slow dance while I hover above the clouds,
just trying to listen.
If the sky is the limit, there will be no room for a cynic.
We will never bloom with a heart that was surely never in it.
If the sky is the limit, I will tell my soul to take on the shape of a mockingbird
and my wings will mimic.
If the sky is the limit,
then one day we will be finished.
Something will diminish within it,
and i will not fade away without leaving something for the children.
I continue to listen and i hear everything that is missing.
Like the space between these lines
or the fine print that provides the most detailed signs.
Let me fill in the blanks.
If the sky is the limit,
I wonder what being limitless takes.
Maybe it takes on the shape of the letters in words
going unheard.
Maybe it is in the muscles assured,
that make you get up not the first or second time,
but the third.
Maybe it's in the charm
that rests in the heart of the sleeve on my arm.

If the sky is the limit,
maybe we will go too far.

- L.G

She closed her eyes
Then she realized
That behind her blinds
Lies the disguise.
In this moment in time
Her soul aligns
With abstract designs.
She binds her cries
And soft spoken lies
And sends them to the sky
Where they can be alive.
She rests with the wings
Of a butterfly.
But never knew why
No one taught her to fly.
She let her soul cry
In the middle of the night
And when it was time for goodbye,
She failed to reply.

Some of us do escape pain. Some of us do withstand the rain. Some of us do love throughout the blame. Blame it on us - that people still discuss the concept of needing more. Blame it on us that people still feel the right to explore what they are really looking for. Because what they have seen here, is what they have not been able to hold, there. Blame it on us. We are strong enough to endure your reasons. Because we do, understand the seasons; we are the roots to the trees that constantly, remove their leaves. When they see, that people always leave, we stand. Blame it on us, for implanting what they cannot unsee. We are what they cannot forget. I will not apologize for the regret that remains. Because some do become aware; some do know that a pretty stare can climb down the stairs next to evil and still swear to be true to heart. We all unveil. Some of us do appreciate the art of the struggle. Some of us do find ways in the face of the troubled.
Some of us do find the answers, or at least stumble upon, the right questions. Some of us do become entangled in lessons that they routinely run away from. Some of us do stay. Some of us do want to understand. Some of us love so hard that our hearts become a garden of thorns that they adore, or have adored. Some of us still know how to touch softly. Some of us are still willing to offer our offering, far from our bodies. Some of us still do need to be held throughout our personal hells. Some of us don't know what the hell it would take to get through to you. But please, don't blame us when you plug your ears to our screams. Blame us for the meaning you are seeking when nobody is around to explain to you, the lack of reasoning. We have always been here.
We will always be here. Our presence is a present to the present days and we are here to stay; a reminder to the ghosts of your past ways.

The wind beneath these wings
moves silently
as it breaks the stable air.
We float beyond the things
that receive attention
with undeserved care.
You stand there and stare
like you've never seen a rose grow
out of cement
then flow into the storm,
untouched like I'm higher power sent.
And you get a trace of the scent,
like the ocean
that waters my garden.
If I should be unfamiliar
with these things,
then I ask that you beg my pardon.
I swim away,
back strokes with high hopes.
The sun beams on my smile,
climbing the mountains
sliding down the slopes.
It's all the same
when you're truly alive.
Die to life's bullets,
and it becomes easier to revive.
Get pushed to the side
and we still fall in line.
I am so aligned.
Yet, I am scattered.
My soul breathes
with the well blended
and rattled.
Pour me on the rocks
that oversea the ocean,
the sea will see me
in its everlasting motion.
Through the commotion,
my indulgence submerges
with the submarines
and I discover
the unheard.

And when I come up for air,
I will speak into existence,
every lesson
that was rendered.

- L.G.

Whisper to me, your withheld words.
You don't have to be a victim of a world unheard.
The way your tongue curved through the blurred lines of your mind,
made me want to jump inside and become intertwined with time.
You never choose to be blind.
Like the reason to my rhymes,
you never declined an invite to dance in the darkness of night.
Whisper in my ear, your deepest desires.
Look into my eyes, slowly fall into the fire.
We must shine brighter.
Hold on tighter to the signals on the wire.
Whisper in my ear, the sweetest melody.
You do not have to be a victim of insincerity.
I wonder if you will see through me,
in this moment of clarity.
You reflected off the waves of the sea,
and apparently, you became a crystallized transparency.
Whisper to me, your fondest memories.
I want to know everything...
(even the words that are trapped in your parentheses.)
Sing to me, a soulful beat.
Embody all the places we could be
as the fires rise in the black pits of my eyes,
swiftly melting from the heat.

- L.G.

They talk to me like they know me
But I have never shown myself fully.
I have only shown a half-fragmented eclipse
Like the moon that perfectly hits my spine
to uncoil this life I put on the lines.
Their eyes engulf me and hold me for a minute.
Maybe it's only a minute because they try to turn me to a cynic that mimics a limit.
I become imprisoned in their stare;
Seeing myself in their glare was like seeing myself behind bars.
I wonder what it's like to care, but never take it that far.
They talk to me like they know me.
They tell me what I am, like I haven't met myself before.
Like I haven't lived with myself in times I was searching, begging for more.
Like I haven't seen myself trapped in their stale eyes,
just to be told to not get offended.
Apprehension, they want me paranoid.
Passive aggression just to fill a void.
They talk to me like they know me.
Like they sleep in the same bed, undead to the same head.
Cold sweats that bleed red.
They talk to me like they know me.
Like they know the words held back are necessary and unholy.
Like I am obligated to be seen regardless..
When I all want is me in this apartment getting lost in the nonsense of my conscience.
You don't know my constants.
You don't know that I am gentle enough to feel the trigger
with my trigger finger, just to pull back on myself.
Ego removed.
They talk to me like they know me,
So I'll take the trigger and bring it to you.

This is how it feels when I look down this barrel
of misconstrued views.
You cut me off mid-sentence just to put words in my mouth
and shoot.
So untrue to you.
Maybe you see you
In me.

They will never know me.

Trigger. Pull on my ankle like an anchor when I reach for something bigger. Trigger. Provide me warmth, then leave me for all of the winter. Last winter was a cold one. Trigger. Compare me to your old one. Like what has even yet to begun isn't already there and above a love you would love to love. Trigger. Tell me I'm not enough. But I called your bluff, and enough is enough. I won't come undone into empty space. Trigger. Disembody my grace. Waste time trying to save face, knowing this is not the place. Own your take and give me back my shadow I had perfectly placed. Trigger. You aimed it at me. Trigger. They came exactly...how I would never approach, yet they say I am their only hope. Trigger. there's things you should know that don't go down the throat easier than swallowing pride. And you'd rather live less alive, than to be quiet in the night making sure your mind is right. Trigger. Or how that might, just send you to the sky, and you might survive a high you've pinned down your whole life. Trigger. Let it ignite. Trigger. I could be wrong. Trigger. I could be right. And sometimes it feels like, they deem me wrong before my mistakes. Trigger. So I ask, what does it take, to not break, before day breaks. But before I could finish, trigger...pulled. Echoes break. Trigger...pulled. Death to the ego that tried to save its face. Trigger...pulled. Death to the disembodied grace. Trigger...pulled. Aimed at anything severing from the misplaced. Trigger...pulled. The insane pointing fingers at the sane. Trigger pulled. I remain.

Would you please, ride with me into the sunset?
Let your true colors drip slowly from your anxious sweat.
Tell me all the things you've never been able to forget.
Would you please, come as you are?
Never make me have to look too far to see everything, near and far, that has created you into this work of art.
Let me start in your eyes and land in your heart.
Maybe you could give me a part of you that nobody knew, because they always tried to picture you in the same, simplistic view.
I am your eyes. Your eyes are mine.
Would you please allow me to intertwine through your mind?
Give me some time to wrap my vine around the warmth of your shine.
Would you please, lay with me under the stars?
We could rattle Mars with the energy that is ours.
I am never too far if you just extend your arm.
Would you please, reach with me, as we discover something we cannot see?
Something that drops me, please, to my knees - and it will relieve many things.
Roam free with sympathy.
It will extend my wings so I may learn to fly differently.
Ascend into these black holes of imagery.
We dream vividly, like the true colors that drip from the spring showers of my soul.
A symphony of seperate shades becoming whole.
This sunset, is never dull.

Would you please, come with me?...

"LOVE ME" ~

It's not what they can do for me. It's more about how they can love me. Because the most that they can do for me, is love me. To console me. To trust me. To send their touch to me in moments where I feel empty in a room full of people that could do without me. It's not what they can do for me.
It's not what they can give me, but what they can spare me. To spare me of a desperation for things that constantly crawl away from me. or that constantly brawl the weight from me. I'm just saying, what is it that they can do, what is it is that they won't try to take away from me? Things that are mine to keep. Like my speech, my peace; just please, take away the pain that left me crying on my knees. That's all I need. It's not what they can give me. It's how they can love me. Because the most they can give me, is love. Love me. They love to love me. They loved to love me. They once loved me. A song I sung from the bottom of my lungs until I was all the way undone. And so I've become...the sum of love songs that were so strong and in the melody I belonged. and where I may have went wrong, well, the lyrics to my story, they sing it all. But it's what he's giving me, that keeps my voice so strong. I told him, it's not what you can give me. But how you can love me, baby. Keep on loving me, baby. So perfectly imperfect, your scars make it all worth it. Let's compare. And what I can give you? Well, you tell me. But I promise to spare us, well, we, a death of a warm love turned cold. They say the hottest love has the coldest end, and that could never be true through me and you. Our veins, remain heated, through and through.
my shivers thank you, yet I still get the chills when I look into you.
#creative #word #writersofinstagram #love #triggered #forever #poetry #poeticjustice #poetsofinstagram #create #peace #music #art #spokenword

Some days, I can't be what they want me to be; though I never think about it that way. Some days, I find it hard to stay sane in a world filled with pain that isn't even my own. Some days, my home feels more like a broken bone, healing beyond the meaning of growth. I learned how to cope, long ago. There is no need to ask me why I roam into the unknown spaces of myself.I deserve to know. I deserve to grow into me. I deserve to love infinitely. And so I do. perhaps once, I was not prepared to. Premature steps filled with short breaths had me exhausted far before the storm rained down on me. But I would always find a space within me to be free amongst the water, my fluidity. gravity always seemed to pull me down in the midst of a rising sun...Until I learned how to live my life as soon as the moment begun. I rise with the energy that keeps me one. One one one, I am the sum of what my hands have unraveled to come undone. Do not question my achievements, because I can promise you it came from the only place that I believe in. That may be the same place that I have grieved in, never to deceive my agreements.There is a reason, for all that I sleep with. For, all that I ever needed was within. So how am I gonna win if I'm not right inside this heart of sin? Human, so flawless in a pool of imperfections. I am rested, knowing that all that I know,
is all I am kept with.

We don't ask for too much. We just want to be loved. We just want to feel trust, like how we feel the sky fall when it all is never enough. We want to be enough. We want to give it all up for you. We want to be true. We want to feel renewed. We want to feel you, as much as we feel our solitude. Like every molecule that falls into our pores, we want to be yours. We want to hold open doors because they were held open for us. We want to travel ocean shores that were once too far and far too much. We don't want to be too much. We don't want to push away your touch. We want to be in love. We want to believe in "us". We want to feel God, like you were sent from him to us from above.Understand, our wants become needs. Desires become things. Things, we can't always touch. But we always ask, would that be too much. Just a sign to remind us that we are loved, when we do bleed this blood and we leave it up...to the men that hold our hands and protect all our plans; the pressure that withstands when it comes to being women. we just want to be acknowledged through our sin again and again.Because we weren't raised to give in, but then again, we find ourselves slightly begging within for him to see us at the very point we begin within. When we were never without, but our past made us doubt. We are empowered beyond reason, we just pray that they don't change like the seasons. Because we feel that too, through and through. That's why our hearts can turn summer into the wet morning dew. Waking up, looking at you, wondering if we made it through to you from the night before that left us separate in twos. We just want to be one, that's why we become so undone. Good morning, when it's all said and done, we become, the sum, of what has left and what is yet to come.

and I know it's not easy to rest in me when my energy is heavy.
I feel it too.
I'm with you. see, sometimes there's things I cannot shake.
There are things that make me break, and I am not ashamed.
but I am afraid to make the same mistakes twice, because these vices give me life,
though it's not always right.
And I don't need them to validate my state of mind when I see both sides like front and rear.
So everyday is a day to keep my vision clear.
But if I'm envisioning life through water droplets does that really still count to be clarity through these optics?
And sometimes I'm completely off this topic
because I'm often softly spoken and nauseous
at the thought of being cautious and having the contents of my mind being thrown into an object,
as if it were anything anyone could ever touch.
I don't ask for much but to keep your hands off my feelings and to just...
lend me your breathing.
And it always comes down to what they are needing
and I'm caught between,
teetering on a line of giving and receiving.
Karma vs. healing.
Like, what have they given me that I can believe? And what have I done to deceive but didn't really mean?
so I I guess I...better believe in things that I never saw.
I better sturdy my mouth and tighten my jaw.
Only speak when it's more beautiful than the silence that leaves them in awe.
A tension so raw it could be bought, but I was taught not to sell my soul.
Though it wouldn't be gold, more like water,
translucent to the soul that makes us whole.

I have questions; Questions regarding the lessons, disarming me. Like why things that would be alarming to the majority, no longer surprise me..Or why they look at me crooked when I've straightened parallel to the ones aligning. Or why when I'm crying, the ones I thought would be beside me are prying away, like they waited for the perfect day to say goodbye. Or why, despite it all, I've yet to feel so alive, as I do now. Because in order to survive we must not crouch down, or bow down to the things that would never amount to the amount of love we wish to give out. Avoiding handouts as if my hands were tied my back. because to receive for free what I can't live without would have me living only with what I lack day in and day out. A soul priceless and timeless, and I'll bet money that they'll always be able to write this, even if I left this world in the name of righteousness. I have answers, though the questions hold much more. Like why the things that I happen to adore, have me hugging the floor. Is it a passion to implore into more? Or a clashing that I ignore until it hurts like a sore that I thought I never asked for? But still I remain, as fluid as the ocean shore that only asks me to soar and welcomes me into its core. I'm learning to dive. Back stroking waves that sweep me out of the bad dreams to real life, where I get to choose what keeps me alive and what I thank God for at night. As long as I can see the moon shining bright, I know within my heart it will all be alright. Goodnight.

I wrote my dreams down in permanent ink, but the fire inside these eyes burned the paper when I blinked.
I lean over the bathroom sink, aligning my thoughts and all that I seek.
And sometimes it makes me weak
to think that I struggle to keep my head above water,
like I'm starting to sink.
But this is me.
This is bigger than we.
This is the trigger that I pull when it's my time to leave.
I promised to stay,
so I'm just leaving my pain.
I'm dancing in the rain.
I'm transitioning lanes.
I decided to take the road less traveled.
The one that offers good fortune,
where I will watch all my dreams
become unraveled.
You look at me baffled,
like I'm not supposed to push
through the hurt.
You're so used to falling down
and playing in the dirt.
My conscience is much cleaner,
my demeanor is getting much meaner.
I am ******* but I am peaceful,
I am soft spoken,
but these words are lethal.
I am the diesel that sets fire to the flame
to make you say "we are all equal".
But people often jump on the train
that's named "everything here is the same",
and society is the one to blame.
I will spark change
and it will stay.
There will be a sequel to my name
and i will never be ashamed.
It's crazy that when I closed my eyes
as I felt this ink burn,
I remembered everything that I've decided to learn.
I didn't need that paper
with my dreams written on it,
I needed me.
and you need you.
We need we.
We are the black sheep
but you just refuse to see,
that when it all breaks,
being yourself is lovely.
You can still see clear,
even when that water is muddy.

Just trust me.

- L.G.

He wants you to breathe easy into him. Gentle speech, gentle touch. You see, the touch of a woman  causes him to curl into the shape of question marks that rested on his heart, and you are now the art of his mind. His punctuation. The way he unwinds, his imagination. You are all that exists and all that never did. He wants you to wrap your arms around the strength he holds because society told him to do so, the fragile untold woes that they never would know. Because he wasn't raised to ask to be held, or even be compelled to cry. He wants to be elastic. He wants to spread beyond moons, with you being the shooting star to his eye. He wants to fly. He doesn't want you to ask why, but asks that you understand. He wants you to withstand, what it really takes to hold down a man with aspirations, with emotions, he wants devotion. Watch how he opens up when he receives the love his mother gave him, or even the love she didn't. He wants you to be forgiving. He wants to receive what he has been giving. And you should recognize all that he has been missing. He wants you to listen. And you will glisten. Like the sweat that drips within him when he is nervous in the presence of the beauty of you. He wants to break through. He wants to understand the shape of you. And not what he can physically feel, although that appeals, he wants to be able to trust in a love that will always be enough. Because the man can understand that he is hard to touch, with callused hands and quick demands. Because we demand so much as women, forgetting that sometimes even our thoughts could be unforgiven. I just ask that we are reliving the pieces of us that fall into our man that make them harder to touch. They never asked for much, either.

Attempt to drag me down,
and I hope you let me lift you up.

Drowning in the noise of the crowd,
and i will tell you that your voice
is just enough.

Suppress my light through your dimming shades,
and i will bring you the hottest sun
through the coldest rains.

If you aim to shoot me down,
I will duck the bullet.
I will gently take your finger off the trigger,
and diminish every reason you decided to pull it.

If you decide to laugh while I cry,
I hope you don't mind
if I ask you why.

I will cry while you cry,
and maybe then, we might have the time
to see eye to eye.

You may be wondering why my heart
rests on my sleeve,
so I will take the shirt off my back
and give it to you when I leave.

- L.G.

Through their eyes they see me as this..something that is not it. But I wonder if they see me questioning, everything I've ever known. questioning the things I have outgrown. The things I left alone when I was alone, when my home was not a home to know. Things that I own, as a whole. I wonder if they see these question marks curl around my body and end at the period of all my sentences, statements that I make that are that of a trace of things that I feel. I wonder if they ever question if I feel my confusion. Is it an illusion? I hope. But for somebody so focused on being in touch, I would hope that they would clarify their own. Reunite their stares into something worth meaning. Something worth rhyme and reason, worth perfect timing, that would remind me that without the seasons, we would never appreciate change. And it's ironic because I live in a place where the weather remains, constantly encased in an ever changing pace and my mind stays the same. I wonder if they recognize that I still stay the same me through storms and rainbows. Any way the wind blows, I refuse to stick my finger to the wind and tell them which direction it shows. Some things are not my responsibility. Some things are not part of my dignity. Some nights I sink. Some days, I wreak of testimonies I recite to ignite my truths. But what are you? What are you made up of, that could ever judge the questions, the answers that I seek? Just believe. Just, please, let me be. I already told you, I am free.

I encourage you to become reclusive
and use this time to explore the depths of your elusive mind.
I have found immense importance in the indulgence of focus,
as I expand the space of time to let these words fall onto these lines.
This page was once a blank slate just waiting to be made
into the masterpiece of today.
What I create, will never fade away...
Like the concrete that lays in this little corner of my brain.
See, at times I can be hard-headed,
but my heart is as soft as water.
Maybe because I am a daughter that did not fall far from her father.
I was never taught to be a martyr,
but to push beyond any falter to become stronger.
I encourage you to become transparent. -
Let the light that shines through you always appear apparent.
Everything you say should reflect the mirror that stares you down straight in the eyes,
like the sparkle in the rain on winter's first day.
I have found sense in each aspect of the sentence that relieves my tension.
The attention that I give to these lessons,
is why I continue to harbor these questions.
When you are on a quest in search through all of the testing,
sometimes the answers only come when you rearrange the information you're so accustomed to ingesting.
Sometimes the answers come through the sun
as you lay asleep and the sunrise begins it's luminous cresting.

Maybe it is time to wake up...