I’m a dalmatian in the park this morning
leaping with a grace I can feel

a toddler by midday, splashing
unashamedly into gleeful puddles
red wellies into small pools of sky

a bird by the afternoon
giving the impression I may take flight
as I perch wise on the wall and
stretch my feathers
watching you

a fish by the time the evening is here
paper-light and shining
pretending I am not gasping for air
but I’m gasping
because I know night is coming

And the pretence
Should really be over in time for bed.

...
Transformation, to be transformed
To fly, to the wings that soared,
My dreary genesis,
To the radiant prism, O dear Iris

Fly, Fly my butterfly
Sparkle, luster, let the light come by.
Grown and free.
The vision of beauty, sending love letters to thee.

Freewheeling connections on belief
to lead, rule, follow and support.
Decided through a latent separation of sorts,
the choice in course for self determination.
Collective motivation from individual status,
with less regimented offers of conceit.
We transform when our shadows are shown,
as the clarity of transparency can aid growth.

Years have passed,
Seasons have changed.
Am I an adult yet?
Couldn't say.
Relate?

While pain was brief,
And a cleanse was needed,
I still grow more and do my best to succeed.
Did I pay a bill?
Is it in the budget?
Swear to God I could go for a 20 piece McNugget.

While I shift and work it out,
I'll still ask myself am I good enough?
When isn't your mind...
What kind...
Don't lie...
Stop.
Take a breathe and it's going to be all fine.

Is my flow still the same?
Is my expression more better?
Does it make any sense to you that im still explaining and continuously refraining from resaying a word by rearranging the framing of this here decree I'm declaring?
No, not really.

With exercises and breakdowns,
I've seen it in better ways.
Still in chains,
But looser around the brains.
It's taken time,
But I'm finally in control...

I'm getting used to... New.

You have overstayed your welcome,
Oh entity of past lives not lived.
Your stench of decay still lingers
And seeps from my fingers.

Abandon me old skin,
You have become nothing but the skeleton of past sins
Haunting me when I am most vulnerable.
I’ve befriended an enemy and
In turn, I have become intolerable.

Yes, I have been the oppressor.
I’ve whispered, I’ve swayed, I’ve lusted, I’ve preyed,
And although I have one foot out of the door,
Old friends whisper to me,
“Come on, how much can it really hurt
If you did it once more?”

The law of energy states

that energy can neither be

created nor destroyed;

rather, it can only be

transformed or transferred

from one form to another.

I beg the question

if this could also reflect

the human soul's expression

of pain.

And though this would seem that

we are fated to the burden of a force

much bigger than ourselves,

there still is a transcendental irony

in the way we have the ability to

transform what would be considered

inevitable.

life has seasons
and I am not a flower
I am a tree
with changing colors
shedding it's leaves

As a pandemic spreads across the globe,
we realize more and more
about ourselves
which we once did not know.
Extroverts transform into introverts,
introverts into extroverts,
finally, a revolution for the mind,
an extraordinary, cosmic show
of divine and unprecedented kindness.
Externally and internally
we will continue to grow.