Collective One

At home, in your zone,
Snuggling softly simply for joy,
Minute to minute,
Day to day, in the delicate presence of being.

A strong sense of self,
Wilting forward to dip into sunlight,
Forgetting voids of helplessness,
Out of control, appearing like death.

You sit there motionless,
To soak and nourish like cucumber,
Fresh and crisp, an easy beginning,
How cold is it to start again, you wonder.

The invisible visibly haunts those rigid,
Stiff hands grope desperately,
Injuring fellow travelers,
Why are they here too, you wonder.

Is Home

A tiny speck of dust,
Glinting, squinting –
Floating serenely  over the black fuzz that stretches into the mind’s eye,
Coating every inch of pathway with thought and wonder.

How might one meander such uncertainty?
Surely I cannot just plant one foot in front of the other so simply?
What if cartoon crocodiles climb out of the path and engulf my light?
If there were such things I may need to hibernate.

Finally I shall follow the dancing lint,
They are odd but they are also light among a dark horizon,
Full of lies but my eyes are tainted and prone to organize,
Not like yours that glimmer with a million futures.

Seven stepping-stones reach from home,
It’s not what you think and it’s not where I left,
I’ll be fine from here, you see that tree? I know it, I know my way now.
I’ve never been here but somehow I have.

Above Me

The pelting gems of superior melt silence abruptly,
Yet also with such tenderness I could have sworn it was my own heartbeat.
Voices poke through the dark sheet of stillness,
Pausing only for the acceptance of my own presence,
They remind me what I already know.

It’s as if I can see my life in fast forward,
But what is up is also down with round bits escaping the abyss,
Hesitating only to look back in soft remembrance,
Even the pain was right. Especially the pain was life.

The rise in light lifting up what already felt right,
What already felt home,
What already felt bold.

I am not sorry for your confusion,
I am sorry you do not know yourself,
And care more about your interpretation of me.

Ah, what a relief! I no longer hold you above me.

Your “Simple” Suggestions

Your “simple” suggestions, as you like to call them, fall around me,
They drift softly to the ground and melt before my feet,
My aura illuminates the hostile home in which you hoped I’d freeze.
To death.

All was supposed:
That which cared for,
That which loved,
That which only was doing the best for.

Now I feel the ice crackling under my weight as I march into the night,
Staring at the wild wind whipping rouge,
The bright-eyed glimmer stealing full moon powers,
Gripping mittens release their hold,
Venturing further into the mystic,
Encountering an awe of both delight & peace.

The sticking snow reveals paths taken,
Of light & dark,
Love & pain,
Young & old.

But “simply” suggesting I know nothing shows the nothing you so simply desire,
For never have you sought to understand anything but what you hoped to find.

Changes

The petals have lost their touch,
Soft hardness & thick,
Velvet leather & earth scented,
The kind face turned away,
Whispering webs stretching across the unused,
The unaccepted abruptly vented,

But somewhere simply seemed too much,
And a time was tempting,
And now tea is too much.
The sitting & clinking,
The staring & thinking,
Creaking chairs while sweet disappears,
A milky insight in the dim light.
Then two fall away to find hindsight,
Only a memory.

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.