Today i discovered that there are some things bigger than us,
bigger than your hands holding mine,
bigger than your smile, they are divine,
bigger than the way you play with my hair,
bigger than the times we share,
Bigger than us.

bigger than your words - your promises,
bigger than our our eyes - we stare,
bigger than the future we once imagined,
Far bigger than us, i fear.

Bigger things awaits me,
Our love too soon
Has come and past.

I tried,
I tried to pick up the pieces, please forgive me....
But bigger things call me.
Goodbye my love,
Greatness is calling

I thought
my thoughts
were bigger than anyone's.
Maybe I was bigger than anyone.

This served to isolate me
from the fact that I am small, not bigger and I am okay
with that.

When did it begin? Why would I need this mechanism of living?
Did it start at birth? Or when my cat died in our house fire?
Maybe...
When I lost my father to his mental illness? When he was taken away?
Maybe the ****?
When the trauma set in?

If I am a mass of cells, a living organism,
vulnerable to this world of others.
I need protection. There was none when little. Children need protection.

I developed my bigger-self by watching others. I learned to protect.

I learned to heal. I learned to forgive, but always, my thoughts
were bigger than yours. You didn't recognize so I appeared
aloof, angry, bitter, warming, smarter, friendly, volatile, politically correct, patient, intense, stubborn, caring, wistful, shattered and put together again. I was all over the map. I couldn't find my waypoint, until now.

This is life's way. Our vehicle is our thoughts.

I am not bigger in thought, in action or in self. I am tired of running away, of blaming, of being ashamed.

I no longer need protection other than from myself.

I am now relaxing in the part I could not have been taught. The idea that even experiences, over and over and over again, would teach me my lesson. You ask why people keep repeating
mistakes. This is our allotment. The price each of us pays.

It is my thoughts that save me now, wondering about my son, his illness, about my predicament
after years of hard work, unabashedly independent, procuring mindfulness, deliberating the Buddhist way, meditating on thoughts,
through a maze of my twelve steps
that I now for this moment am alone in.  My thoughts deconstructed. More connected, but not bigger.

My shoulders drop, my face unfurrows, my heart slows, a tear begins if I let it. I am released. I will not suffer further.

How can I tell you, I am not bigger any longer and I am at peace.

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When we see racism...
be BIGGER
stand up to the bully
When we witness crime...
be BIGGER
be that snitch and level justice
When we see hunger...
be BIGGER
feed a soul that is in need
When another needs help...
be BIGGER
give what you can in aid
When a child need mentoring...
be BIGGER
give of your knowledge
When your mate needs compassion...
be BIGGER
be silent and give love.

Inside many of us
is a small old man
who wants to get out.
No bigger than a two-year-old
whom you'd call lamb chop
yet this one is old and malformed.
His head is okay
but the rest of him wasn't Sanforized?
He is a monster of despair.
He is all decay.
He speaks up as tiny as an earphone
with Truman's asexual voice:
I am your dwarf.
I am the enemy within.
I am the boss of your dreams.
No. I am not the law in your mind,
the grandfather of watchfulness.
I am the law of your members,
the kindred of blackness and impulse.
See. Your hand shakes.
It is not palsy or *****.
It is your Doppelganger
trying to get out.
Beware . . . Beware . . .

There once was a miller
with a daughter as lovely as a grape.
He told the king that she could
spin gold out of common straw.
The king summoned the girl
and locked her in a room full of straw
and told her to spin it into gold
or she would die like a criminal.
Poor grape with no one to pick.
Luscious and round and sleek.
Poor thing.
To die and never see Brooklyn.

She wept,
of course, huge aquamarine tears.
The door opened and in popped a dwarf.
He was as ugly as a wart.
Little thing, what are you? she cried.
With his tiny no-*** voice he replied:
I am a dwarf.
I have been exhibited on Bond Street
and no child will ever call me Papa.
I have no private life.
If I'm in my cups the whole town knows by breakfast
and no child will ever call me Papa
I am eighteen inches high.
I am no bigger than a partridge.
I am your evil eye
and no child will ever call me Papa.
Stop this Papa foolishness,
she cried. Can you perhaps
spin straw into gold?
Yes indeed, he said,
that I can do.
He spun the straw into gold
and she gave him her necklace
as a small reward.
When the king saw what she had done
he put her in a bigger room of straw
and threatened death once more.
Again she cried.
Again the dwarf came.
Again he spun the straw into gold.
She gave him her ring
as a small reward.
The king put her in an even bigger room
but this time he promised
to marry her if she succeeded.
Again she cried.
Again the dwarf came.
But she had nothing to give him.
Without a reward the dwarf would not spin.
He was on the scent of something bigger.
He was a regular bird dog.
Give me your first-born
and I will spin.
She thought: Piffle!
He is a silly little man.
And so she agreed.
So he did the trick.
Gold as good as Fort Knox.

The king married her
and within a year
a son was born.
He was like most new babies,
as ugly as an artichoke
but the queen thought him in pearl.
She gave him her dumb lactation,
delicate, trembling, hidden,
warm, etc.
And then the dwarf appeared
to claim his prize.
Indeed! I have become a papa!
cried the little man.
She offered him all the kingdom
but he wanted only this -
a living thing
to call his own.
And being mortal
who can blame him?

The queen cried two pails of sea water.
She was as persistent
as a Jehovah's Witness.
And the dwarf took pity.
He said: I will give you
three days to guess my name
and if you cannot do it
I will collect your child.
The queen sent messengers
throughout the land to find names
of the most unusual sort.
When he appeared the next day
she asked: Melchior?
Balthazar?
But each time the dwarf replied:
No! No! That's not my name.
The next day she asked:
Spindleshanks? Spiderlegs?
But it was still no-no.
On the third day the messenger
came back with a strange story.
He told her:
As I came around the corner of the wood
where the fox says good night to the hare
I saw a little house with a fire
burning in front of it.
Around that fire a ridiculous little man
was leaping on one leg and singing:
Today I bake.
Tomorrow I brew my beer.
The next day the queen's only child will be mine.
Not even the census taker knows
that Rumpelstiltskin is my name . . .
The queen was delighted.
She had the name!
Her breath blew bubbles.

When the dwarf returned
she called out:
Is your name by any chance Rumpelstiltskin?
He cried: The devil told you that!
He stamped his right foot into the ground
and sank in up to his waist.
Then he tore himself in two.
Somewhat like a split broiler.
He laid his two sides down on the floor,
one part soft as a woman,
one part a barbed hook,
one part papa,
one part Doppelganger.

It's all so wrong
but it feels so right
but it really needs to stop.
Because the balloon is filling
bigger and bigger,
And soon it's gonna pop.
It's all so wrong
but it feels like I'm flying
soaring in the sky,
The balloon is filling
bigger and bigger,
Bigger than you and I.
It's all so wrong
but it feels so good
like nothing can stop me now
but the balloon is filling
bigger and bigger.
I need to stop it, but I don't know how.
*It just feels so right

This life
It is too simple
Too plain For a person like me
A person who seeks experiences
Someone who chases her dreams
I wonder what it would feel like
To dive in crystal clear water
Or watch a beautiful landscape
To jump from an airplane
And feel the adrenaline rush through my veins
To sing with the crowd at a concert
And dance the night away
To sit by the bonefire
Hearing the sound of the crashing waves
To gaze at the stars in an open field
Or gaze at the northern lights
To get lost in a big city
To experience both safty and fright
To simply live
In a world that is much bigger than the walls of my room
Bigger than my empty passport
Bigger than this simple life I lead
In which I could only experience these things
Through a dream.

The world is a stage and life is a tragedy / and a comedy and a romance gone bad / and a love gone right until it has gotten away from us / and it’s ugly and cruel and its strange and beautiful and it twists and it turns / and we all got something burning inside of us /and we all got something to cry about / and we all got something to regret / and we all got something to smile about / and we all got something to sing about / but we move along like background actors afraid of center stage / afraid to feel all of our lonely rage / afraid of what will the audience think / afraid of stumbling on our lines afraid of tripping over our own heart beats / so afraid of dying in the limelight that we hold our breath and close our eyes and sleep without dreaming / and stay out of the spotlight and stay off in the wings / and what is it we’re living for by not playing the parts of ourselves / nothing but a shadow of who we could be / when will we all realize we can make our hearts into something bigger than a fist / that our heart can do something more than just beat / that we got the whole universe inside of us / and all we got to do is let it spill out / we don’t have to wait for our turn to be heard / we don’t need the permission of the director / we don’t need the applause of the audience / this is our life / this our stage / we got our own light dying to get out of us / we got gasoline running through our veins and we’re ready to burn from the inside out / and keep on burning and keep on burning and keep on burning / and dance along the fires of eternity / we don’t have to hold back who we really are / no matter how awkward or weird we may seem to be / there’s a beauty only found in those who find comfort in being strange / we don’t have to give in to normalcy / we don’t have to be complicit to the script of human cruelty / we don’t have to play soldiers in the war of wealth and greed / we don’t have to play the blind to the homeless and hungry / we don’t have to pretend to not hear the cry’s for help from those stricken with poverty / we don’t have to play the part of the enemies enemy / we can rewrite the script  /we can turn the world around and stand in solidarity and find our way to unity / we can stand center stage arm in arm and let no one move us / we can tear down the facade / and open up the cage our minds have been living in / and fly free and fly too high and kiss the sun as we burn hotter and brighter and not melt into nothingness / and nothing can bring us down when we make our hearts into something bigger than a fist / when we open it and let all this love spill out and let all this love come rushing back in / simply by just opening our hands and reaching out to one another / sister to sister to brother to brother to mother to father to daughter to son to friend / and to stranger / and write everyday with compassion and kindness and empathy / and throw away the old script of human misery / and all take a bow / after we have made our hearts into something bigger than a fist