Somewhere constant
I count my blessings
and submit to nature
Sacrificing my physical self
to the soul of summering Fall
Mother Nature on menopause
whisking out hot flashes
with a cold shoulder
turned on innocence
The trails here
wind me
back
in
time
A place for believing in a higher self
without the stigma of belief
Some mystical "nonsense"
you'd have to see
to believe
Stranger than the fiction we lived
before Autumn turned to ashes
to embers
and reignited
hearts
with an amalgam of inspiration
Grace is the only constant
The unheard rhythm
We lose our minds
trying to find
in the chaos
The thrill in the chase
to drop the
four-on-the-floor
somewhere on the journey
Hope perpetuates in rhythm
Everything here
is coming together
for my highest good
Or
That's how my mantra
overrides my manic
imagination
Subliminally
stuttering
steps
A path to within
From only out here
I walk back to the graves of trees
where I parked my car over
Hollowed out and haunting
my attachment to the Earth
Grounded by ghosts
The echos in the silence of Singing Hills
*This is my worship.
This is my tribute.*
Oct 11, 2013
Oct 11, 2013 at 6:46 PM UTC
Somewhere constant
I count my blessings
and submit to nature
Sacrificing my physical self
to the soul of summering Fall
Mother Nature on menopause
whisking out hot flashes
with a cold shoulder
turned on innocence
The trails here
wind me
back
in
time
A place for believing in a higher self
without the stigma of belief
Some mystical "nonsense"
you'd have to see
to believe
Stranger than the fiction we lived
before Autumn turned to ashes
to embers
and reignited
hearts
with an amalgam of inspiration
Grace is the only constant
The unheard rhythm
We lose our minds
trying to find
in the chaos
The thrill in the chase
to drop the
four-on-the-floor
somewhere on the journey
Hope perpetuates in rhythm
Everything here
is coming together
for my highest good
Or
That's how my mantra
overrides my manic
imagination
Subliminally
stuttering
steps
A path to within
From only out here
I walk back to the graves of trees
where I parked my car over
Hollowed out and haunting
my attachment to the Earth
Grounded by ghosts
The echos in the silence of Singing Hills
*This is my worship.
This is my tribute.*
I normally don't like to write lengthy pieces as much anymore. This all came to me when I walked through a local forest preserve in an attempt to cleanse my mind. It ended up being a slight spiritual awakening.
