Dancing in the wind
Clapping her hands for the birds
She stands tall, green, strong

I died as a mineral and became a plant,
I died as plant and rose to animal,
I died as animal and I was Man.
Why should I fear? When was I less by dying?
Yet once more I shall die as Man, to soar
With angels blest; but even from angelhood
I must pass on: all except God doth perish.
When I have sacrificed my angel-soul,
I shall become what no mind ever conceived.

There are times when
you are not yourself.
You blend into something
unwantedly & unwillingly.
Something that is
too distant from your
psyche & guise.
The transfiguration makes
you a whole another person,
one beyond your bridle.
But you always hit back to
your archetypal persona.
The endeavor to recrudescence
is always tenacious,
summating unscrupulous inscriptions to your crasis.
People will judge you
on this substructure of your psyche.
But this is not who you are
& what you are!
It is mere an icky phase.
Your elucidation lies beyond
this transfigured self.
Never relinquish your
pristine pneuma.

YOU HAVE MORE TO
DO THAN BE WEIGHED
DOWN PRETTY OR
BEAUTIFUL. YOU ARE A FIERY AND
A WICKED BRAIN.
DON'T LET YOUR
SOUL BE DEFINED BY
IT'S SHELL.
FOR THE SHELL IS
OF THIS WORLD
BUT THE SOUL,
OF ETERNITY

Put me in the chamber
with just shame to inhale.
I will extinguish ,
flaming out the demons.
For then my soul will purify
and
i will b freed.

I will be wandering in the streets of un-named lands.
Among unknown people , will i be sheltering.
In the labyrinth of strange cultures and rituals.
Yes, that is what i'll be doing.
Careless & free of bonds travelling the lands like a wanderer.
Joy & peace will be my
profits of trade.
My fate will see no destination
only the journey.