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preston Sep 22
the forming of substance
Stephan W
(stepped out to get some air, and never came back..)

It presses its face
against the inside of the glass-like globe,
It is vaporous, unformed; globule. It can
experience the moment.. but, formless--
it is unable to hold onto the knowledge
of that experience.
It is  k n o wn  by Glory-- referred to as; being
There is laughter in the newborn baby's sleep..
dreams- present-moment flashes--
of funnyface smears, left there-
on the outside of the globe by the angels;
Left only to a startled jump, and then tears--
the initial shock.. the aloneness of being born-
into the imperfect world of potentiality,
and into the new and as of yet unfamiliar feeling
of unmet needs.
The glass encased Perfection gives way into
the only true access into love--
found only in the movement towards volition,
as the crystalline-like glass
that once encased the spirit
is now traded for skin.
And so that which once experienced Glory
from within the protection of the glass sphere
now enters into the world of participation--
first, though- as an infant..
wholly dependent on those
who (hopefully) will give
who will nurture.
~ ~
Perfection gives way to incompleteness
made perfect again only through love--
Touch brings love right up to to the skin,
baby takes it in.. unconditionally,
yet, in a way
still pre- volitional-ly--
It is outside the globe, now-
and spirit is participating in its own needs;
the little baby cries.. no longer 'complete'
and protected within the sphere
Now wholly dependent on love and care-
from the outside.. taken in, solely
through the repetition of warmth
and the primal longing for its own gift--
that of volition.

a small baby has now become
a little higher than the angels.

"And there was evening
and there was morning--
the first day."

Carlo C Gomez Aug 17
The canopy tree
My shelter
Of light
Pulled me
Into its shadow
Operosely so
I remembered:

In memorization
Of varied
The columns they path
How they became
And all about how
She looked and felt

She was
And diamond light
Off shore
Off the shoulder
My boat still afloat
Yet her waves indeed
The sinking of me

But then
In the peril
Of natation
The shiver
And the taste of salt

What entered my heart
Was the same
As filled up my lungs:


The microcosm of
Or pleasure
Or both demises
At once
In this dream nothing appeared,
And you woke up.
I see the sun lion walking,
Across your face.
Her heart is deep in change,
In this place.
And woke you up.

Love is her shadow,
A wake into the wind,
In which we play;
Set sail to times past,
Stars unseen, still cradle the day.

And you woke.
I saw the Sun Lion walking,
Across your face.
Centuries divided,
Desires left to the chase.

She is with you, I called for her,
She told me, she is with you
The Sun Lion.
Poem I wrote for my wife's 50th Birthday Anniversary
Mia J Aug 11
Oh I wish I had the wings of a butterfly!
I’d fly far, far away
and land to the prettiest flower.
I’d indulge in its peaceful beauty and sweet nectar.
I left my cocoon long ago and the present is all mine to explore.
I grew and grew for many days until my shell was no longer suitable.
Now it’s my time to be who I am.
You see,
I come with many colors.
My bright ones add light to the atmosphere.
My darker ones send coded messages to those who dare to listen.

For I am one with nature but I lack the ability of flight.
Such an ability would help me flutter more in my true self.
The weather was warm with open arms when I left my shell.
Oh I wish I could fly with the other butterflies!
But perhaps it’s better if I’m solo for some time.
I may not be as fast as them and I wouldn’t want to slow them down.

The ladybug and the shining sun will bring me proof.
Should I ever have butterfly wings,
The smiliest and prettiest flower would be my first destination.
I know your young feet have the urge to drive a high heel,
but they cannot feel the heartbeats of the ground of soil,
beating beginnings and growth.
So, abide to this simple troth for your naked feet,
to meet with beginnings and growth,

Justine Louisy
Copyright © Justine Louisy 2020
All Rights Reserved
Ameed Jul 18
There's always an end
It will always come
sooner or later

New beginnings will also arise
and they will make you forget
all that has happened before

Live by that thought
Thrive by that thought
The bittersweet blast
of ending another
another one.

Weird, unnatural, irrational.

Mixing maudlin with
the electric buzz of new beginnings,
we will drink and sleep,
cheap grins on our faces
‘til we’re adrift in three week’s time.

These days and friends are mine.
Raising a glass to all the teachers who have reached the end of the Weirdest Year Ever (TM). We have lost our traditional chance to welcome the new and say farewell to friends.

Despite what some gutter press and bumbling government ministers say, we never stopped teaching or caring. Never will.
I'm a bird setting flight,
Touring new lands,
Leaving the nest behind,
Taking part of the flock with me

Deserting things I thought I'd love forever
Testing the waters I never thought I'd ever tread on
Approaching new heights
Forming new nests

Wherever the wind takes me
Bearing through the storms
Home draws near
New seasons have arrived.
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