Thank you, so much.
Thank you for the ;long nights and for rubbing my tummy when the 'medicine' hurt.
For loving me when no one else did, when I didn't even love myself.
For being my friend above all else,
and telling me I wasn't really bald, and my little whispies of hair counted.
For seeing the reality of that family, and still accepting me.
Thank you for being my love, and showing me what it was like to be that close to someone.
And for allowing me to get that close to you.
For exploring the forests of our hearts, and laughing with the trees and the mermaids.
I love our time together so very much, even if it didn't last as long as we'd hoped.
Forever is all a matter of perception, as are many other things.
Life is pretty amazing when you step back for a few minutes.
When you realize that we are all part of something much larger,
and our faces are merely a reflection
of something much brighter than the flicker that we are,
you start to realize that everything has meaning,
and nothing has meaning.
Love is real,
but then its not.
You realize the colossal paradox that we live in.
And yet with the sharp edges and the strange turns,
its all so very beautiful.
So with all this in mind, it has been nice entertaining the thought of why we meet one another,
how we converse and interact with each other,
or why we do at all.
It has brought me into the realm of realizing that there has to be a reason,
but then on the same thought that maybe it doesn’t have a reason and its all for nothing.
So if we go down the path of life being what we make it,
and this is our world that we create as we go along,
then wouldn't it just so much more magical that this all wasn't for nothing,
and that even if we don't see any logical reason,
that there is probably so sort of grandiose unseen happenings surrounding your decisions.
Now isn't that frightening.
That every action that you take has a consequence and you effect everything around you!
But this is the time to take action,
not let it control you.
Take it and run with it, learn new things and never let that stress of the world weigh you down.
Your only as old as you say you are.

Are you ready?

To see me, to see your own reflection within my eyes,

and to accept the truth that defies all lies.

What do that word mean,

to be a sister?

Is it something in the air,

or did I miss that lesson?

I've never had one of those,

so I don';t quite know.

From what I have seen,

you don't know anymore than I do.

Would you like to figure that out with me?

I feel it might be fun.

Hard at first,

but walls are made of stone and the elements of the heart wear them down and show their true nature,

rock

mortar

and dust that has accumulated from a forgetful past.

Does it really all matter that much?

Words said and lost.

Have you ever seen it as all a big game,

that only some know that rules,

and those some are so old when they finally understand it,

that they are left with nothing to play for other than everyone elses chips.

Take them and run,

and weep for the lost life hidden between blank pages.

To have not loved,

touched,

felt

and admired.

The only thing left is to count the chips stolen from cradles of the south,

and know that they were right,

and no one can ever challenge them again.


…

It isn't much of a fight when your all alone with only the voices in your head to talk to.


What I do know is that I am learning,

I am growing every day,

and in many ways I am shrinking,

down down down.

Soon I will be able to crawl into a mans arms and feel safe,

cradled to sleep to the rhythm of his heart beat.

No more worries of pain,

for no one can hurt me the way that they did.

And no one can hurt fire.

With its spindling finger that caress the dark oak.

Trees that have been long rooted,

stuck in their fixed position and un-budging.

Fire kissed them to sleep with the tongues of yellow, as the forest burns to the ground.


I was told that when someone has dug themselves a hole, and have yet to ask for help,

to leave them be,

they are content in their misery.

And who are you to expect any more of them,

look at you all high and mighty with your chariot of truth.

Leave us be and go back home,

your just like Her,

they always said.


Well yes,

I am as a matter of fact.

I am just like Her,

inside of me there lies a slumbering dragon,

kept at bay with the protective armor put on top of my bones.

It was sound insulation,

protecting the dragon from the bitter cold that was spewed all around.

Once in the safety of a home,

the layers and layers we mined,

chipped off one by one,

and with each falling flake there was a scream from within,

a scream of a little girl that so one answered.


As the layers shrank and the sound barrier was weaker,

the great dragon awoke and reacted to the screams of the innocence that was being *****.

“It must be time” the dragon said

“to rain fire through the land.”

But the demons were gone,

and the ghosts were no more.

Save one,

the spirit of the little girl.

The dragon curled around,

this little thing, and layed softly down its head.

“Your safe now little one”

and squeezed her tighter to her heart,

I am here to protect you, and no one shall ever harm you again.


This dragon was protection, for if anything had gone wrong,

but protection never seems to come,

in the way it “should”

it came after the venom had burned the flesh and broken the bones,

after the flower was defiled and the men had all went home,

after there was nothing left and nothing to come,

and the young woman curled up onto the shelf,

and closed her eyes safe at last.

There was nothing left that had not been done.


But then there was another,

a young man who wandered out of the war.

He picked her up,

and carried her home.

He washed the dust from her face,

that had rested there from the shelf.

Bathed her clean,

and brushed her hair.

When she awoke,

the breathed the air.

Something was different,

something was new.

Many others were there,

all with kind faces.

And a sweet boy in the back came close and whispered

'Waloo'



And so now,

it was time to cry.

For that was the only way,

the dragon would open its eyes.

And she cried and raged,

and each layer fell.

Bestowing a radiant beauty,

with blue eyes and curly hair.

The name did not fit,

the name of an angel.

An angel sent from heaven,

to fulfill a wish,

and not loved and honored,

must then take other forms.

And this form is warm,

and this form is green.


A dragon within,

radiating warmth

and green in the surface,

inviting love and nothing else.

So yes,

I am just like Her.

My Mother,

The Mother.


So take my hand and love me now,

for who and whet I am.

Do not persist that you think you know,

for who are you to judge.

There is nothing left to fight for now,

all the angels have been silenced.

The only ones left are you and I...

You requested room be made,

and there is plenty of room for love.

That dragon still awaits,

the day that may still come,

that the creatures who tortured that little white spirit,

will get what they deserve.

But that is a battle that will be left to the spirits,

as they say.


As for you and I,

and me and you,

just know that the road wont be smooth.

The fire has sparked,

and the truth will be spoken.

But it is truly all up to you,

what that word means and how you will choose to give it meaning.

There is nothing else left for me to do.

So many have written of love,
what it looks like
feels like
tastes like
and sounds.
It is seemingly timeless.
With no end,
and an unimaginable beginning....

Love  is the knowledge that when you return,
there is a Home waiting for you.
Fire burning.
smells of bread baking
and soup simmering.
That no matter how far you have gone,
or how gray your hair has grown,
there is still those eyes,
that are meant for no one but you.

It is the fire that drives me,
that has the power to warm another,
or destroy them.

The wind that carries the special words,
spoken through whispers on the full moon.
Carried to the one true one,
that the heart desires.
...
Can you hear them?
...
The Earth,
the temple of the Mother,
the one true love
Constantly awaiting the day when her love comes back to her,
fills in the space between the Earth and the Sky.


Love does not bind,
it does not chair is down.
It frees us so that we may go on that journey,
the the warrior within,
and go to the ends of the Earth to find ourselves,
only yo return home again,
to find those knowing eyes,
still awaiting your return.
The eyes that already know all of the things,
you spent your life trying to figure out.

Word unspoken
yelps ignored
Will it be time.
with the coming sunrise.
i will be there,
I am already here.
Sweet boy,
sweet girl.
You are children,
as wise as the ancient Sun.
as quiet as the ageless Moon.
I feel it may be time,
and if that is so,
I will remember you in the place
of pixie dreams
the space where all magic resides,
and innocence is tender and whole.
You will reside there, within my awareness
until you are ready to be your again,
and are given life from the Moon

You cannot escape that air bubble
in the top of the tea bag
Go ahead and try,
you little one mad gypsy show.
Prove it wrong,
and slap that smug look
off the stone face of Time.
Now go home and enjoy,
your little circle **** within your own head
that you were right
and there is no god.
Its all in your head
whispers the priestess to your Tech,
he controls your thoughts
and monitors your escape

Go ******* some more,and spill yourself
on the floor of your room.
That was the last of your soul,
now lick t up and weep for the days that your were wrong.

Its about Time you knew
who your real father was
He was the preacher from church
he got turned on when I confessed.
He was the only one who would listen!
You have to FORGIVE ME!
but isnt that what he was for?
and now the ******* of the church
has the right to forgive

Now take that .22
says the little man in your head
I live right here
between your green eyes
pull the trigger
and pop goes your head...
Are you right now?
finally got some peace and quiet...
Now think of what you've done,
made a mess of the wall.
Someone's going t have to clean that up, you know?
How very uncouth of you...
But I shall forgive you, my son.

It's not a sin, my daughter, it's not a sin
says the preacher as he wipes her lips dry.

Either this stump is getting warmer
or I have just stopped breathing
A ghostly feeling,
what is this body?
He strokes the fur
of the ageless cat
And drinks the sweet Nectar of Time
from her ripe and supple ***.
Will it ever be Time?
This body isn't really here,
You self-indulgent ****
but that stone is here
the one the colour of blood
and the heart shaped ones
that you carried around your neck...
We eat such things here
crunch
crunch
crunch
You don't have a clue
when and where you are,
all you have is a book of square numbers,
and a circle of dots.
Do you remember that place between world,
that place you still remember breathing?
Turn on the fans
and your bright red television,
its time to wake up,
and realize every breath
every step
that your grandfather took
never really happened.
It was something you made up
for your own sick satisfaction
and the cancer is your stomach
was just another weak transaction.
be there now
in the space between time
But would you,
could you even be?
Not with that fat head on your shoulders
or that **** in your pants
It's time to evolve
and you have decided
**that this is your one LAST CHANCE

Memories
Memories
spinning r
                   o    n  
             u        u     d
           o            n      .
              r       d          .
                  &                .
There isn't enough room
in such a small little town.
I've slept there
ate there
Loved here
So many
that they begin to over lap
get fuzzy and muddled...
What happened there?
I've been in the house.
I lived there once
Someone needs to....
burn it down.
Release what is trapped,
free up some ******* space
There is nothing let to
see
to love
to hear
Nowhere left to sleep,
that has yet to be slept upon.

Wont you release yourselves,
and let the poor la(n)d rest...

It doesn't matter much anymore,
your silhouettes will be burnt to the walls,
and soon it will all be
forgotten...
For what is a memory,
*that no one remembers?