earthquakes, heart breaks, slow like a turtle
trying to birth my new era but i am not fertile
all in divine timing i guess
what is holding me back, my stress, my ex, is my best not good enough
what is holding back my blessings, my lessons, is it that my heart is scuffed
what do i even want, been way too long
since i asked myself to be honest, everything has been a performance
who would i be if i was fearless
what would i be like if i was endearing
wonder what the core essence of me is, my scent riding the breezes
people are recognizing me, my anxiety recognizes me
a recipe for brain-fog, get up for a morning jog
to sweat out all of my venom, to restart my system
cultivate and reinstate my Wisdom

Distant dreams and memories
Lost opportunities it seems
To the things that could have been
Reflecting on the past at half mast
Easier with hindsight to look at what might
A contestable question mentioned
How far do we plan with conviction
Experience paves the way
Flicking through past sections
Sets direction led astray on a page
Which ways do we cultivate
To lead the order of our day

I had the sudden thought “...and I’m the thing he doesn’t mind losing”

It was a little tornado of thought that I quickly put inside a mason jar and placed on a wooden shelf in my living room.

I sat on the couch across from it observing it and watching it stir.

“What a thought”

How destructive it could be to let that little storm out. It could grow and it’s winds could slowly start to peel off the walls and start to take down the roof.


So, I closed my eyes, cupped my hands and I thought of your smile–warm and tender. When I opened my eyes, a seedling had grown over my left palms.

“How beautiful”

I contemplated putting it in glass encasement, to watch it from afar, but instead I decided to take it outside and plant it near the middle of my front garden.

“This is what I want to cultivate” a flourishing sprout of life; a garden of plenitude.

tiny fragile bud
clean prune cultivate nurture—
precious child blossoms


© 2020 by Mark Toney. All rights reserved.

You left me for better pastures,
You did't realize I too was fertile,
You just did not know how to cultivate me.
You are just a pastoralist looking for greener places.

I belong to the Earth
The Earth not to me
It'll swallow me up
when it's time
Or maybe it'll share
with the sea.

We don't cultivate our Mother,
She plants us like seeds
Provides us with a nice clean bed and always pulls the weeds.

Not all the seedlings grow into what she would want them to be
So we're harvested and mother tries again.