Spirit Face

It happens without me even needing to think or try. When I interact with people, particularly when I first meet someone, I do this thing that comes automatically. I think most of us do it without even realizing actually and it has everything to do with energy. What I do is I look past their human face & try to gain insight into their ‘spirit face’. It’s going to be difficult to explain this and I may sound like a crazy person doing that, so bear with me. It’s not something that occurs with thought, though it seems to appear with light and feeling (energy). As soon as my brain registers a person’s facial features I take a ‘dive’ into a realm past the physical. The only way I can describe it is a visceral need to see past their mask for a glimpse into the real self. I get visualizations of light beaming from behind their face, making features more radiant. This realm I’ll call The Light. Here is where I find a few slivers (and sometimes a whole beam) of light, or rather their true self. How do I know it’s their true self? I guess I don’t really. However, my intuition tells me otherwise: feel love emanating from them instantly, and this is then where the element of feeling chimes in.

It isn’t the same with everyone. It depends on how high someone’s defenses are. If they are on guard it might take a bit more time, and I may not have the chance. However I find more than often I can, because when I approach people with that intention at heart people can feel it. And this all happens within a matter of seconds. It was only now, by breaking it down, that I realized what was happening. Connecting with people like this is the most satisfying and sustainable experience, because when they do show you a glimmer of their true self, you are encouraging both the evolution of their consciousness and yours. Look for love and you’ll find it.

Yours Unconditionally,

Music Ingrnts.

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The Ease

I have nothing left but you still want more,

Those threats are as void as a black hole,

Rolling around, destroying with ease,

The place you find yourself in is one of misdeed,

You won’t find me there or anything of light,

The greed seeping with ease,

How easily you part waters, while others bleed,

No need to apologize your apology is coated in hate,

Growing up in a house built of fear & jealousy,

A tendency to bar out love,emotional-abuse.jpg

A cage, a cave, a windowless room,

It was so easy to raise us this way,

Don’t you see? I’m not a little girl anymore, I understand my pain,

Instead of blocking it out in the pouring rain,

I say let the rain pour, let the pouring rain in,

Please, little girl, I want to feel the world.

Nostalgia

Soaking in the warm tub of memories,

Bubbles, and
the movie clips.

The ones that impress true emotion:

Valleys of lush wisdom,

Mountains of hazed cartoons,

Not the TV, there was no TV.

Us, me, we were exploring the tall grass,

Meandering streambeautiful-deviantart-music-photography-sunshine-technology-Favim.com-41861s, inspecting bright stones and lingering bugs.

Air warmed by the sun filling lungs bringing fresh outlooks,

Hooked on outbursts of surrounding beings,

Freeing, inwardly receiving my life unit.

Output depending on my clockwork,

Do I know what time it is?

I think I do, but I don’t want to worry about that anymore.

The Panic Attack of A Poet: What It’s Like & How I Get To The Other Side

It rises up through vulnerable temples,

Fizzing like a poured soda,

Taking a tour of an endless drop,

An ever darkening ride to a past time.

Shit, I think,

My fingers seething with adrenaline,

A never-ending heart race,

Palpable like heartache.

I know what is to come,

And I am certain this is the uninvited guest.

Nevertheless, a trying defense, my mind mending fences:

If an open sea can carry its waves,

So can I and sleep soundly in graves.

I turn around to meet the fear,

One so dark depth disappears.

I am hurled through this vacuum,

Will it ever end? Desperation then thickly spreads,

Trapped in the pores of uneasing breads.

Just when my thoughts try to transcend,

A river of pain seeps out of my lens.

 

Don’t worry, it will be over soon, a faraway thought suddenly reminds.

 

The words mix like water and oil,

Hopelessly stirring forever and ever.

 

The words mix like water and sugar,

Hopefully stirring for better and better.

 

The words mix like water and syrup,

A seamless stirring of thought and spirit.

 

This is a homecoming. You are here, and you are home.

There isn’t anywhere you need to be, and there isn’t anyone you need to see.

Your source of comfort is simply there, in you, for you, all the time.

It is unlimited, and it is specifically yours.

In no way does it impose on or interfere with your free will.

It is unconditional. It is you. It is love.

 

The Looking Glass

Looking inwards I see a bulb of liquid,

it moves and jiggles yet stands still.

It isn’t like a movie in how it plays, download

but it is a story nevertheless, a twisted one.

It is the perspective of my abusers,

those who took my canvas and painted it in a slant.

Everything in this glassy haze is twisted and deformed,

barely completing one another in form.

It is quite unusual to be on this side,

the outside.

It has been a journey,

one of conditioning and one of glory.

However,

the slanted glass is not my mirror,

I am my own soul reflection,

projecting pent up redemption.

I am my own soul redemption,

projecting pent up reflection.