I lie awake,
words spilling,
overflowing through me.

They are only words,
but within them contain great understandings.

You cannot just ponder them,
keep them trapped in your mind.
Cannot sleep till the universe is satisfied
with what it has shared through me.

Nothing Matters.

And it is meant in the most literal sense:
Nothing really matters.
Doing Nothing
puts everything
into perspective.

I wish you had all the time
to do all the Nothing
you want to do.

To ponder,
watch clouds change shape,
countless sun rises and sun sets

to watch the stars, planets,
the moon flow through the sky,
to listen to the wind blow through the trees,
to the birds sing,
to lie down and listen to the rain kiss everything.

Pure.
Nothingness.

There is perfection in the nothingness of everything,
blissful, explosions, from the inside out,
in to Infinity.

Nothingness. Void. Empty Space
which isnt empty at all
containing the entire cosmos

Make time to do Nothing.
Because,
Nothing Matters.

wake up, brainwaves still pulsating
between dream world and wakefulness
eyes closed, press play,
instantly spiralling through emptiness

where is there room,
in the midst,
to see this separate me,
listen-ing, to this song

when I am so immersed,
this separate listener
and the process of listening,
dissapears.

I am, the music.  
And like music,
this "I" cannot be touched, or seen,
but only felt
arising and flowing
in emptiness, here.

I keep on writing and writing,
In a space before trying to make sense of the words. And then reread to explore which are my subconscious keywords.

On and on and on it goes,
spilling wondrous colours from within the doors of my inside walls.
Never-ending storylines and mystery, what is truelly deep within,
and under the surface lingering.

Trying to better understand me.
Exploring depths beneath my breath
It should be normal to for us to sit and contemplate death.

Our minds are too active to be a bore, theres just so much you could explore. The marvelous thoughts it stumbles upon and creates to entertain, theres so many things you cannot properly comprehend.

Sometimes we write something in a fleeting instant. This one only manifested in just this moment. Othertimes we sit and wonder why theres no flow, perhaps thats for another poem to explore.

Few years ago I lost my grip on earth reality
and dwelled in a place where tears of bliss filled me daily.

I remember so vivedly,
as I had never felt so close to insanity.
My heart imploded and I cried happy tears for what felt like eternity.

I was so confused at what was happening, having never experienced such ecstacy for no such reason.

I remember telling myself, whatever happens from Now, it doesnt matter.
For experiencing this, nothing will shatter.

It comes unasked, unmasked, unnoticed.

Complete surrendering presence.
It could not be understood or named,
Only dwells in sweet deep silence.

And when I read of mystics who speak of such experiences,
I cant help but weep from rememberance.

We live in a world of polarity
And monogamy
Afraid to be truly a human
And escape familiarity

Like the moon
One side is always hidden
Why can't we share freely
what is considered so forbidden?

We are obsessed
with wherever light manifests
then forever gaze into the darkness
and the silence it captivates.

I am strong because I've been weak.
I am expressive because I've been quiet.
I am giving because I've been selfish.
I am kind because I've been mean.
You are, because you have not been.

Look beyond these words.
To what creates them.

Before the words.
To what observes them.

If you create what you believe to be "your" thoughts, how can you observe them?

What are you then
the creator
or what is that is observing them being created?

Thoughts arise to you,
go through this you
but who does it arise to
who is the "you"?

Ask from a deeply rooted mind,
where from does this "I" arise?

I am not this "I"
that defines itself with placing words after it,
for those words are made, not what you ARE.

You can never explain it.
You can only Be.
This "I" simply flows through
and meets here
to express its self
as this separate "me".

There is nothing that is untrue,
for it exists.

Everything, anything anyone says,
is true. It already preexists.

So why are people out always searching for it?
Truth cannot be "found"
or learnt as something that is 'new',
that's *******.

How can truth be learnt? Truth doesnt require learning. It doesnt require YOU.  You cannot 'find' it. There is no finding. It's true all through.

It exists, already, always in All ways. By itself.
Its right here, as Everything, so perfectly itself.

Perhaps beauty exists for its self.
Perhaps it doesnt exist for me or you.
A flower doesnt bloom to be admired by you.

A bird doesnt sing to be admired by me.
Perhaps it only appears that way,
but both bloom and sing for itself,
completely free.

Doing good is its own reward.
The universe flows for itself,
once inly explored.

Kindness exists for its self.
Love exists for its self.

And after knowing all this,
to still somehow be here and experience it;
observe it, embrace it
I will forever wake up grateful for all of it

I am at the same level
of your troubledness,
so beautiful and pure.
I travel in to you
to bathe
in your silence
I remember you.

Drenched in Love,
my souls aflame.
Love is such a poetic force
that cannot be explained.

Consumed in it,
urges to write poems
that moves your core.
Cannot compare to anything
youve ever felt before.

I forever want any person in contact with me,
to fall into the rhythem of my heart
to create magical ecstacy.

If there was one word I ever wanted to be known for,  I'd like it to be Love.

If there was one word I could ever use to describe my Self and my life,
let it be Love.

Love in the way I sing
and laugh and dance and share and care and live.

I love to love.
I Love to love to love to love

When I say I am, I am not.
When I say I am not, I am.

There is a stubborness to how Intelligence works. It wants to be known, but wants to be a mystery aswell.

Flow of change and stillness, together.
Because, its everything and nothing,
at the same time and in no time at all.

You can talk about it,
but you cannot explain it.

Because it's not the words,
but what creates the words.

What is behind a word before it is made?

It is THAT.
You cannot explain that,
you only know it.

The more I read about religious leaders,
the more I feel they don't belong in their religions

Buddha was not a Buddhist
but a wise man and an optimist

Jesus was not a Christian
but a reliever of oppression

Muhammed was not a Muslim
but a preacher of love and magic
of what we call God that spoke through Him.

These teachings aren't religious
only their deep experiences make them prestigious

Religions are man made
Labels that we've given to groups of people
who chose to conform to certain ideas
which in fact are universal

They all teach love and happiness
and tools to end human suffering
in essence there is but one teaching
experienced through different portals
and perspectives of everything

Each of us, whether we like it or not,
are constantly interacting
and exchanging energy with everything else,
for energy is never lost.

I see a flower. A person. Have a conversation.
I see it, feel it, hear it, truely.
It then becomes a part of me, forever,
and I, a part of it, instantly.

If someone or something touches you deeply,
you recieve and attach a part of them deep into yourself and vice versa, wholeheartedly.

And that bond that both share
will never be broken,
for it will forever manifest itself as a memory
that will never be forgotten.

You can read
(or talk about)
all you want
about swimming,

but you'll never know
until you simply
jump in the water.

Acceptance looks a lot like denial
And denial looks a lot like acceptance. They are but two sides of the same coin.

We can look at someone fully accepting life in all it's glory and magic after pain and say they are in denial.

We can look at another who is in complete denial and say they are not accepting fully their situation.

But in the middle we exist.
We wax and wane like a pendulum.

Don't ask me how I am
My eyes will show you
Rivers will run
trying to drown me
Falling - thats what theyve called
being in love
Falling hurts
Hurts most when you are pushed
When they just stare away
remain shushed

I've never been good at pretending.
Never been good at hiding my joy and laughter, never been good at hiding my tears when I'm sad.

I cannot pretend to be alive. I am Here, ALIVE. I feel, I love, I break, I cry, I surrender, I emerge.

Life is fierce. When I love and when I hurt, it's fierce. Its my soul ripped wide open and raw. Its my whole heart on display. Its all I have and everything I know.

Flowers bloom in winter too
Your heart can bloom
through the darkest days too

When I was a little girl, teachers sent notes home saying I talked too much, that I was loud, that I had too much to share. That I had to dim my light.

To quieten me, you told me to wait, to observe others around me before taking a step. To reflect, to choose carefully what to share, when I knew in my heart of hearts what was always meant to be shared. So I dimmed. I took this and I started to slowly dim my light in relationships, afraid of my light and fire taking over.

The voices kept saying "Stay quiet. Don't shine so bright. Don't scare others away". Then a love came and fell in love with the light, until it became too bright. He then began to tell me to withhold from sharing any opinion, to say nothing and merely just hold and hear him.

And so that little girl kept weeping, holding it all in. Hearing nothing but her heart pounding like drums in her ears, fire turned out by her tears.

All that light burning inside with nowhere to escape. We forget that light cannot be detained and enchained, for its urge is to spread and touch everything it sustains.

I do not open easily to love.

But when I do, I become obsessive.
Fantasies run wild without being suppressive. Don't fret, it is not possessive. I'm still not sure if loves a curse or a blessing.

Desire to want every single part of them, kiss every inch of skin, to wake up every cell in their being. To get lost in the depths, until we lose our breath. I want to devour the other whole, as they devour me whole.

Time appears Linear. Tick.. tick.. tick. But closely watch a tick. See when it begins.

Really, there is no begining of a tick because time can be divided infinitely. A second can be divided into a millisecond and the millisecond into something smaller and again and again and again and so forth, smaller and smaller to infinity.

It has no begining, this moment where a tick "starts", cause that moment can also be divided. It never truly starts.

We chose to create those ticks, those boundaries. The mind creates it out of its own processing formula - and the minds process is that we can only be aware of one thought at a time... we watch one thought pass and another arise - so it creates a process (time) out of its own processing.

And the more we live in the Mind, the more we believe in Time and fall victims and be affected by it. But in reality there is no begining or end. You can never find its Source.

We set boundaries in boundlessness...

And when you step outside your Mind (outside of thoughts), you step outside of Time (state of timelessness). Because there is no Time outside of the mind. This is where you can taste eternity.

Yet you appear you are having a life. Or youve had many. That Time is passing. That you have birthdays and you are aging. It appears that you were born and then you die because you believe in this mind created concept of Time.

You appear so....
You are the most magnificent Illusion 💓

I am not your conventional woman.
Sometimes I am not lady-like, I do not stay within the lines, I will always speak my mind.

I do not tolerate being told what to do, feel or how to be. I have met the masculine strongly in me, so do not attempt to tame me.

I was raised by wolves, barking in every direction. Ancestors burnt down for having an opinion.

I don't comply, I'm no pleasure-giver. Don't ask me to be a forgiver, if you cross me, prepare to feel your blood quiver.

Never by my hands or by my fists, but my pen and brush are the true misfits. I will drown you in poetry and burn you in paint, the fire in a womans soul is not some saint.

Let me be and listen to me,
that is how you soften me.

People will tell you that they fully accept you,
Until you move outside their boundary of acceptance.

They will tell you that they fully see you, until they can no longer see themselves reflected back to you.

They will tell you that they love you, until you show them the messy traumatic parts that are too difficult and painful for them to love.

They will empower you, cherish and lift you, until they tear you into pieces and be done.

Tell you you've got the sexiest skin and body, until they see your stretchmarks and blood.

The reality is no-one will love, accept and cherish you the way you love, accept and cherish yourself.

I was grieving you
long before you left.
For weeks and months I cried,
bleeding until nothing was left.

Something was witnessing us die.
I kept asking for reassurance
you kept feeding me a lie.

I knew what was coming,
I couldnt stop myself from becoming.

What happened to coming together as two full individuals? What happened to honoring filling our own cup rituals?

You were puzzled,
finally found out.
The persona you kept playing to satisfy me, was breaking apart.

You no longer could hide,
you had to face yourself.
Been performing for so long,
you forgot who you were all about.

With that you could no longer face me, realising you had no restrain over me.

You knew it was coming and you didnt want to accept it.
So you rushed the decision before I could beat you to it.

A contract had ended,
Terms and conditions not met,
Long before you left.

My biggest fear is that eventually people will see me the way I see my Self. My biggest fear is that we will see Nature for what it Is. Completely awe-struck.

Can you imagine if the whole world truly saw a single flower for what it is?

Can you imagine millions of people dropping to their knees weeping overwhelmed? Can you imagine....?

There will be utter chaos, realising such profound beauty. The earth will feel so much, it will cave in into itself and combust. It will be the end of "us" as we know it 💓

When you feel like you cannot take on the world any longer, grab a peice of paper, a phone, a book ~ write down the twirlings in your heart and soul.

Let it all shatter, hold the broken peices, even if they cut your hands, bring it closer to your centre. Hold your rawness tenderly. Caress them. Feel them. Hear them.

There is so much wisdom in these moments. And if words flow, let them. Write them down and forget them.

One day your being will speak to another part that needed those words and tears will flow.. a precious gift for your self, from your self.

Sometimes in times of struggle, we look outwards for comfort and reassurance. But no words are so healing than the words from your self a lifetime ago.

Never underestimate the power of your own wisdom and your true Being.

We glance at each other shortly
Waiting for the other to start
I would say something but cannot think over my pounding heart

Where are the deep thoughts and detailed explanations we keep for each other?
Are we scared of rejection,
Or have become infatuated with the fear of feeling feelings that is so familiar?

Confide in me, I will not let you down
But will you do the same?
In this thought, I drown