A leaf floats in the sea.
In dirt, the water seeps.
Each one has a unique sound,
And each, foreign to me.

The scenes I fail to capture,
And never fail to miss
Drag me deeper into wonder
And deeper through abyss.

The exposure just gets lower,
And the darkness eats the flash,
And crashing down onto the ground
A shattered lens will thrash.

The shutter starts to flicker,
And the timer doesn’t last
As the wonders of the world
Become the wonders of the past.

Debris will fall on rubble
And stack into a heap,
And I’ll give up on my camera
And fall into my dreams

And in my dreams I’ll never fail
To capture every leaf,
Or every droplet,
Or every stone
As to me the world bequeathed.

The start, ends with a sea.

You did not choose your father,
Neither did your father knew you;
Your birthright was only seeming,
Never yours from the beginning.

As waters separated from waters,
So sheep separated from goats.
But there is no seas in the end,
And all tares burned and wheat gathered.

There are
standard connotations
of ubiquitous love:
...******,
...religious,
...platonic
and now electronic!

They
usually take us away
from the home base
and we are lost
in the mores
of colourful
or colourless
(but elusive nevertheless)
illusions...
of gods,...
of heroes
or simply pictures of people
we have met on the internet.

We do not understand it
for if we did
we would cease to seek.

...that the seeker might be the sought
and that no wars need be fought
for that which can be
calmly identified on the inside -
- is something we repetitively miss
and while we all magically have it,
it is in and through the other
that we ignorantly solicit
our abiding congenital bliss.

But she's exposed herself.
Flesh and bone protruding out the protective bubble.
She's only just gone and dragged herself to the margins of society.
Removed from the warmth of the gooey womb she supresses a lingering shiver.
Now she resides in a ***** dimension. Present, not quite faded yet.
Now the perfectly grown princess has self-inflicted chips on her shoulders.
Addicted to self-flagulation she tries to regress back home to her former alter.
Beyond. Reach.
A stone bleeding with pleasure weighs down the remains of her birth right.

A man's greatest right is not his birthright.
Birthrights are sometimes sold or can cause a fight
So maybe it's his right to change his own mind
Over and over and again without looking behind.
Something he can do without conceding any loses
This is his birthright, this he can do whenever he chooses.

IB-Poetry©️
3/14/2018

Magic happens when you don't give up
and ride the waves of light.
When you open your heart to see
as if eyes line the *****.
Magic happens when you
touch the moment in breath
and bestride the carousel of dreams.
Its what happens when one
recalls who they a
divine being with reservoir of gifts.
Hello magic I declare my birthright.

We yes we have been bred by forces of the Cabal.
Forces that encourage separation
fear, lust, greed, lack.
We've been bred to use Mother Earth
till she's bare
****** her asserts blind to her gifts.
We have been lied to and poisoned by our foods
Being kept from our natural gifts as spiritual beings

But alas people are awakening.
They awaken every day
with rise of sun and starry night.
They awaken to know we are sacred beings
transmuted into human form.
Form to finally wake up in these new times
to live in harmony.

Yes harmony with
no hate
no separation
no judgements
both toward self and others
no greed
no hunger.
And in abundance
our birthright.

Great change are here.
It comes as new energies anchor on earth.
It comes by going into the heart.
It starts with a footsteps of an
open readers eyes.

She longs to spread
Her wings afar
And fly till its midnight
She longs to feel
Breeze of the winds
Caress her wings
And smother her soul
Dance among the clouds
Sneak around in sky
She longs to reclaim
Her birthright of freedom
And get food for herself
Find shelter in rain
She longs to live
A life without chains
Even if it means
She may lose
Her very life
But all she can do is long
For she is just
A bird in a cage