words can bring life
or cut sharp,
as a knife at your throat
forming portals to aid a spiritual escape.
words can bring fate
or bring smiles to the face of the beholder.
words are everything
still nothing.

is it the higher order construct
or impudent conduct,
is it only bore
or is there more?
to you,
to me,
there is a mystery that turns madness
to magic,
if we let it.

swings like pendulums
on planets at the heart
& at core.
doors are opening
& more life is channeling into source
to explore & expand,
great,
creation.

And in her eyes, reside starlight and fire,  
A multitude of sparks against the dark of her pupil,
Shining through open windows of iris - showcasing soul.
And stars dance in her gaze, a mimickry of laughter on lips,
"Come share in this joy with me" they seem to say,
Projecting their thrall, compelling and enticing,  
Bespelling like beings and light beings alike,
Drawing them nigh, to join in a ritual baring.

They envoke a sharing of spirits, inviting a marriage of ideas,
Consummating a journey of ties, unveiling unseen connections.
Cloaked in midnight, and still she is luminous,
Mysterious, yet, as precious and pure as genuine pearls -  
Her glow resonating from subconscious through skin,
As moonlight in human form,  
Her tendrils stealing into universe,
Shaping, adjusting, freeing.

Paying homage to the goddesses before her,
She calls the tides to her fists,
And beckons the raging winds to surrender to her will,
She commands the rains to cease, and the seas to still;
A reckoning force, blunting the force of storms,
She calms calamitous energies,
Standing fearless in the face of catastrophe,
Gargantuan, even to giants, overwhelming and limitless,
Black, and magic.

Beyond the boundaries of time,
And the space for constant contact,  
Or the clusterfuck that becomes the mind,
And the way the lines of lives developing
Seem to lose parallels and begin to contrast,

Beyond the need or feel to act,
Or to attend to tact,
Pretensions unneeded in the face of facts,
Beyond the answers not given,
The questions, not asked,
The niches of the heart,
That fill and flood with other parts,
And other people,

Beyond the lies of the insidious,
The worries, seeking to make one wary,
The woes of trials faced in silence,
The doubt, screaming loud of worthlessness,

Beyond the disquiet,
Attempting to build walls between,
Dividing the entity from the worldy plane,
And all other beings,
We build strings, made of titanium,
As strong as the crust of neutron stars,

Connections that flourish,
Ties that extend, and refuse to be severed,
Bonds that live lifetimes;
Beyond... forever.

I awaken suddenly,
Shifting instantaneously between two states,
As quickly as one breath succeeds the other.
Taking note of the missing hours of my existence,
With no dreams to fill them -
As if I had ceased to exist in that space.

I wonder, what life have I lived
In the REM of my being, in the realm of my mind?
And does it affect me so?
I feel a potent emptiness in the aftermath,
The disconnect of slumber and waking world
Leaves me shaken, attempting to ground myself,
To seal sleeping spirit into physical body,
Once more.

It is in these moments that I feel out of place,
The darkness of unknown memories calling -
Tempting me to delve into the deep again,
To escape to a place I won't remember,
To find the peace I can't forget.

Have you felt longing like this?  
An aching with no absolute source of satiation,
No known, or guaranteed fulfillment,
Like a puzzle with countless pieces,
And nothing before you fits.
It is evident then, that there is a lack,
Still, you struggle fruitlessly to reassemble the parts.

Along the hours between midnight and dawn,
I drift in this alternative universe,
Sinking into a dimension beyond my own,
Living countless lives in unfathomable time,
Only to return to mine, to mind, to life -  
With nothing but longing, to reminisce about,
And remember them by.

I have become one with the mountains,
As stone, steadfast and immovable,
Unshakeable, even as the earth quakes
Beneath my feet.
I am a marvel, in my fidelity,
Remaining loyal to the plane in which I exist,
Regardless of sleet, snow, or flood.
I bow not to the storms of life,
Nor am I swayed by the tides of destiny,
I cower for none, for I am the pinnacle of spirit,
Standing firm and without apology,
Amidst the rubble of the earth.

I watch as the sands erode,
And the winds are lost to time,
Witnessing the birth and death of worlds,
As a surplus of souls are reclaimed.
I mourn unabashedly still, at my peak,
My prominence unimportant in the face of emotions,
I am no less human -
Though at times, I may wish to be so.

In my resilience, I am ironwood, steely and firm,
And though I may waver in my struggle,
I flail not in my stance,
Thriving in stability,
Seeking to find a parity in energies.
I discover a reliable peace in this equilibrium,
Knowing beyond logic,
The value of self -  
The essential balance of soul, spirit, mind, and body.

running away is easy,
almost too easy.

its like all words turn to tear drops
in attempt
to introduce shallow to depth.
my excuse is deep sadness,
what's yours?
-
since my contributions are unsteady like the grounds i walk,
id rather not give nor take.

here's an ode to midnight drains and
dreams suffocated by pointless comparison
amongst rare forms of being.
in a world of misfits,
comparison steals all joy.
-
in a world of misfits,
who cares if only 1% can relate to the comprehension of
dark & light,
as whole.
who cares when soul outweighs modern roles
played by vamps,
getting hype while you drain.
-
i take hype in doses,
to help me to 'loosen up' at pity parties
where i'd dance if 3D grounds were stable.
but my energy, is it dead?
is it still dying
as i continue to realize my own sense of aliveness?