I wish I could swim.

It has been a long way, a long while, and I can’t see the shore.
I’m getting tired.
I’m losing my self,
slowly….
I am sinking,
slowly….
The current is so strong, and I’m not strong like I used to be.
It pains deeply that you have to watch me sink, because I can’t be there like you need me to be.

I wish I could swim,
but it seems as though I have forgotten, along with my dreams, joys, and name.

I can remember,
Standing on the shore. I remember the early morning moments of serenity.
So pure.
I can remember the sunsets, stars, and your laugh...
So pure.
I remember it was there, so it can’t be gone.

All will soon be on the other side.
I thought I had to cross the ocean, but I just had to wade inside myself.
There was already a beautiful thing there...
There was my strength.  

I am coming back, I’ll see you soon,
I remember how to swim.

Recreate... Re-create.

She told me that distraction is an art from vile thoughts, the ones that circle 'round, drag me down into the ***.

Recreate... Re-create.

Not distraction from the sort of thing that truly needs attention, but getting back to who I am, a spiritual ascension.

Place those wings upon my back, we all are holy creatures; show me what's inside your soul, the finest of all features.

If your demons drag you down, chain you up, and circle 'round,
Pull yourself up out the cauldron, fight and stand your ground.

'Cause in addition to holy talks is something that has power,
Re-create by recreating, and bloom your long lost inner flower.

Do whats you.

Don't overthink it.

If it makes the heart pound and the head ache, its not natural.

What's beautiful is natural. Natural as the waves meet the shore.

So when I begin to pound and ache, I stop.
Release and breathe, this isn't meant for me.

And what will be, will be. God has a plan for me.

And I'll just let it come to me.
I can't be it all.
So ill stand tall, and listen for my souls call.

Time is like sand.
Course here, smooth there.

Watching it slide down the choke point.
Don't slide so fast,

slow down...

I need it to slow so I can use it in my peace.  

But my peace is in
Taking time as it comes, taking time as it goes.

Passive; active in good time.

It was never about fighting, struggling, striving,
It was always about releasing, accepting, and allowing

So the spirit could do its good work in me.

Silence is an art, and agenda is a science.

That's why I paint pictures of life, from this lonesome knoll,
Think thoughts of privacy in this holy state,

And keep them.

What's best is what feels like home.

Stuck between two sides of the fence,
Like I wanna jump, but I can't.

Indecision has kept me here, posted.
Straddled between the heart and the head.
This picket fence appears to be the promises of good life.
But its just a stain of white deception, holding me...

Waiting...

Waiting to live.  

But I know what to do,
Choose the side that goes to my backyard.

Choose what feels like home.

Ragged, flimsy, thin, spotted card.
Creased with the tales of time.

Jaws equipped for a blow,
Ears higher than the mouth, just as God placed them.

Face structured like stone,
On the narrow shoulders of a boy, we lean.

And of all the 'siła' endowed to our name,
The windows gently lead to the soul inside.

Carry, drag, and crawl.
But never let an utter of hardship leave thy chest.  

Like a ‘Schnadel’,
More gold surfaces, as time does what it does.


"Spread your wings as I have told you,
God bless you, I love you."

Love from 'Polska' is different than words,
More doing than talking, build a house like the birds.


Stay true to 'Wiara' like a true ****** would,
John Paul set example, follow, do good.

"Fight like you’re dying, please lose the sad frown,
‘cause you can’t let the ******* get you down."

What a name you uphold,
Humble pride that is shown,
And like a good yellowhammer,
'Papcio' always returns home.