***** you, this is who I want to be!
Don't you make me out to be anything
or anyone I am not!
***** you with all your necessities,
your expectations and your strings.
This is me, breaking free fitting not in the slot.
***** you, misogyny!
I am throwing back your cheap ring
and letting the guilt go from its ransom knot.
Goodbye to the false dreams and realities,
Goodbye to the voice that couldn't sing,
And goodbye to the many selves, I am not!

Feel the tension,
Even though it’s uncomfortable,
because it’s where you’ll grow!
Lean into the discomfort,
Feel the disconnect, as
That’s where new life begins!

Deep darkness, despair.
How could you know, you’re not there?
Empty mind I crave,
But constant chatter takes me to the grave.

Fleeing, running; working, studying, drugs, and stuff,
Distractions from revelation; I am enough.
Progress is prized; the final nail,
We need true clarity; the holy grail.

Opening out and up to the mystery unknown,
Here, flourishing can become our own.
Insights of the true us,
Found when there’s nothing, no sound, no ***...

Embracing loneliness can be the pearl sought,
Moving away from things ought,
Turning to the unknown,
Is where true dreams are sewn.

Waiting’s heavy yoke; a punishment beareth I cannot,
Unknown steps before me terrify; well-known potholes behind I've trot.
Weighty dreams consume the ego’s choker chain,
Releasing all this right now, trusting there's so much more to gain
Travel to far-off places experiencing life in new ways
Adventure abounds, and destination awaits; confidently claim the future and graciously inhabit new traits.

And it died.
I didn't realise trees
needed watering,
but they do.
It's silly to think,
how I didn't understand this,
I mean, the garden looked so green
from all the rainwater,
but there it is,
my dead tree,
at the top of my garden;
and we all pay homage to it,
now dead.
Is that the same with other losses?
Friendships and marriages?
Jobs, possessions, conflicts and disparages?

People say things like:
Where did that time go?
Things are moving so fast...
and it's true, and they are,
but when you're in the moment
they're not. It is only when
you look back or look in the mirror,
that you notice time has truly passed,
and you see the grey hairs;
and exclaim: "Oh, I am old now!"

Do you know how hard
it is to pick up broken
eggshells scattered?
They shatter smaller and further
making picking up the pieces
painstakingly difficult;
fragile matter.