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Stacey Dec 2024
I was on my usual morning commute, succumbing to the ease of autopilot, when I happened to glance out my window at a magpie. Our eyes met, just for a second, and in that moment, I dissolved from mindlessness into pure joy.

A smile overtook my face as I felt nothing but this beautiful creature’s gaze upon me. I felt his unbotheredness - huddled against the wind, keeping himself warm without complaint. In that micro-second of silent conversation, I sensed his quiet affinity for life—his gratitude for the earth, which, day after day, provided him with food, and for the sky, which so effortlessly offered him passage. He wastes no time lamenting, only enjoying.

It was with that thought that I realised: we are the same—on a parallel commute. Him, guided by his intuition, and me by mine.
My morning commute
Stacey Dec 2024
Being with her is like no other place,
Like resting on a soft, buoyant cloud.
As she holds me in her wise embrace,
We say everything and nothing aloud.

She inspires me in her steadfast grace,
As she humbly absorbs my loving.
She sees the pain etched upon my face,
And warmly soaks in my sobbing.

She accepts my faults, her heart unlaced,
Our bind, like roots entwining.
For we are cherished in each others trace,
Our endless love, sweet, undying.
inspired by both a tree, and some very important friendships
MisfitOfSociety Nov 2024
I watch the rust gather.
And etch time into a stone.
Marking these moments until the bars erode.
I’ll bleed on my knees until my prayers are heard.

Incarcerate my flesh and bone,
Yet my mind is free to roam.
Mateah Sep 2024
In the hum drum and the toil
In the itch of daily life
As we each till our own soil
Carefully avoiding each others' strife
We go to and fro enjoying
The comfort of monotony
And take pride in our employing
The right of autonomy

We take little heed of shadows
And the artwork they display
Or the fluffiness of clouds
As they drift along their way
We forget to thank our knees
As we bend to take a seat
Or admire the flowing streams
In the hardwood beneath our feet

It takes substantial effort
To see the inches in the miles
But there's something striking in them
That I think you'll find worthwhile
Take notice of the details
Don't be blind to little things
When life feels all too big
Just practice noticing
I've found this makes my life feel much less chaotic. Noticing details helps ground me, make me more thankful, and helps me realize the insignificance of most of my problems. Haha.
Jeremy Betts Jun 2024
You only judge;
Or misjudge, the minimal effort you saw while my mind was gagged and bound
The many breakdowns you were a part of where no fix could be found
And the deluged of tears you hardly stuck around long enough to see hit the ground

You never asked;
About the profound effort of simply starting a day on the day priors rebound
About the countless cries that tried to break through the red tape but never found sound
Or about the tears I was told weren't allowed to form with other people around

Leaving me to question;
Can a life be built on the middle ground?
I guess the more important question is,
Do you desire to turn this thing around?
Is there any interest,
What-so-ever,
In seeing if a middle can even be found?
I'd appreciate your response but don't expect to see one come around

Fool heartedly yours,

The Crying Clown

©2024
Tara Marie Sep 2022
I’m navigating a field of dark something-ness
Sitting quiet in morning air

In these cavities where my soul perceives life, I seek a heightened energy

Laying hidden behind wrinkled skin
tucked tightly into two beds of compact tissue
in this moment they rest purposefully as if sitting behind window curtains

They serve a common purpose when prompted,
To identify objects in this limiting dimensional plane.

Some days when I come here, I wander aimlessly across battle-torn countries of thought
It is essential to let the river take them
Watching them pass as an observer instead of the instigator
Feeling the depth of their sting grow distant

Sinking deeply into the dimension where we live beyond bodies

Where I am a bee pollinating the flower
I am the bird calling out in a resounding plea
I am the wind pushing through bamboo forests

Until breath inhaling and collapsing my cadaver becomes less of a grounding cord
And the mat placed beneath with intention is no longer a chain to the ground

There is now no face to inhabit,
The world; a faint memory of molding

Here the wind isn’t quite invisible
Temperature is not affected by her power
Bearing colors, intentions and tranquility

I let her carry me up and away
Mark Wanless Dec 2021
a deep slated plume
of hatred for those telling
me what not to do
such a mindful waste
Johan Nel Dec 2021
I woke up in the back of a car filled with twilight
a forgotten song played pleasantly on the radio
and the mild moment under the quiet trees
stirred in me the knowledge of the enticing present
I lay there whole and happy
awaiting my family's return
© Johan Nel 2021.12.13
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