Sunday, November 26, 2017

Foggy images of the mind

picture source:

clouds flooding in from the southern divide,
a curtain of longing, of losses in time,
shreds of images stirring through grey waters
driven by a steady wind, shivers run across your skin,
and slowly the rain starts to fall, soft as a veil
drenching your soul with sorrow
as memories dance through you once more

Monday, November 20, 2017

A day as today

picture my own

I wish for everyone a day as today, as was yesterday, as I hope for tomorrow,
a day where time loses its importance and you’re in tune with the rhythm of your soul,
this is freedom, ultimate peace, a schedule greatly your own,
in a clear space, secluded, by villagers presumed to be a transient stranger,
I’m an unknown, invisible, I’m at ease.  Here every day gifts me
with visions stealing my breath, awakens memories and feelings
bringing me to a halt, and I just drink it all in, breathe it in, smile,
be it days of pastel sunrises and golden sunsets,
or days shrouded in a cocoon of silver-grey clouds
in a mist as light as a kiss, each feeding, cleansing, clearing, rebuilding,
to the constantly changing, ever-present motion cast by the waves.
If not here, I will never find my direction, my path, realise my strengths,
reach the frequency written for me on the day I was born,
a recipe from my forefathers, to live as me, to truly be free,
in trust, in truth, in love,


Thursday, November 2, 2017

Life's a rollercoaster

picture source:

It is all in my hands
I hold the reigns
To direct the way, to make things happen, to choose the direction,
I have the ability
To lead my own life
To enjoy what I do, to follow my heart, to create my dreams,
I have the authority
To say No, to say Yes, to opt out, to ask questions, to respectfully refuse
I have the right
To deny my love, to change my friends, my home, my surroundings, my life

What happened to make me believe I am not worthy of your time, made me feel I have no gift, no talent, for music, drawing, writing... why do I feel I do not matter, am not significant enough, don’t know enough, am somehow lacking.  What happened for me to presume I am too inconsequential to be missed, have made no contributions, haven’t helped somebody, somewhere, at some time, why do I feel love is conditional, why don’t I own my part in making things happen, why do I feel nothing I’ve created is my own, why can’t I find a place where I belong, how can thoughts be so crippling sometimes……