go and get lost in your art
unearth your deepest desires
show the world your pain
and unleash your fire.
find peace
learn the language of harmony
and let the balance be your natural state
and the heart of your adventure
because the root of your core
is an infinite creation
and you
are an artist
of your very own masterpiece

give up trying to define yourself.
give up trying to define others. if you know your future, then unknow it.
stop trying to define it. you just are and it just is.
stop searching for purpose, because the purpose is you.
life is self discovery.
it is why the concept of time even exists.
it's a division of and why each second is made up from other little seconds. it is about moments.
if you think that you are what you were yesterday, move on
if you think that you know what you will be tomorrow, slow down
realise that life is right now. you take it as it comes. you give it no label, no category, it is free.
you don't have anything to benchmark your successes or losses against,
no routine to fall into,
because in the now you cannot be disappointed
I am not here to define freedom or tell you what is free and what isn't.
but you can
you are the only answer to that question
whatever you do from now is a step into what you become
you are becoming and always will be
here in the now,
each word you read is your first and your last,
an ongoing adventure of
learning, evolving, growing and becoming
life is self discovery
remain true to what you find,
nurture it and help it grow.
the now changes
it will not wait for you. keep to its pace but go gently. life is a process of different nows.
and perhaps we die when
we self discover,
and we die when we realise that life isn't so bad,
and we want nothing more than to do it all over again
and so we start over
reborn
into a new adventure
of self discovery

I have been afraid
to strip my mind
and bare my thoughts
because people don't understand
so I want to thank you
for reading me
because
here I sit
my naked soul
exposed
and I am no longer afraid

With long sandy hair
and denim frayed skirt , ocean
wears fishy knickers

Sometimes, the poems only resonate in the space between the sky and your eyes

Your words are tape, the only heart they will know is the shattered pieces of your own that you hold in the palms of your hands

Sometimes, the poems are only just enough to stop the blood from dripping through your fingers, not pretty, not inspiring

Your words are nothing that the world will ever clutch to its chest in its darkest hour, pointing to them as if to say
There is still poetry!

But they are yours.
Your poetry, your tape stretched across the fragments of your heart.
And in the space between the sky and your eyes,
Your words will always be a masterpiece.