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| www.layersofink.blogspot.com |
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| picture source unknown |
When did her life begin…
….with the shy, little blonde girl in photos
captured of moments she cannot recall,
with the confused teen, who didn’t belong,
who tried to fit herself into friendships that didn’t
resonate,
and situations she did not understand?
with the young woman
in a grown-up world
who built her worth on the compliments of people
and achievements valued by society,
yet left her alone and lost in the dark of night,
with being a first-time mother of a son
who awoke an overwhelming feeling to protect him
against every pain, guilt and shame she had ever felt,
with the tormented, sinking soul,
who numbed every feeling and emotion,
hoping for the rewards and happiness
promised by the teachings of this world,
with the suffering and tortured being
who searched behind every closed door of her mind,
reliving every painful memory over and over again
in a seemingly endless spiraling staircase without light?
….with the tentative woman
who finally felt solid ground underfoot,
alone in the wilderness, naked, bare, jaded and dented,
who smiled her first smile with a head of silver hair,
standing on green, fertile farmlands,
living by her inner knowing and her spoken truths,
accepting of the gifts the universe bestowed on her,
with the confidence granted only by the passage of time?
When did her life begin?
picture credit unknown
Through an archway of rambling pink and white roses,
on a mountainside far away where time has been frozen,
you can enter a kingdom of green rolling hills,
with air so fresh, where your dreams your heart fills,
of joyous laughter with each dancing step,
your freedom awaits if you it so let…
Your gaze fills with visions as true magic unfolds,
long forgotten tales woven through tree branches old,
gurgling brooks singing songs to which your soul knows the words,
and butterfly wings tickle senses you’ve lost and unlearnt.
Come with me to this land that exists and is true,
where the air is warm and the sky oh so blue,
where the half moon you sprinkles with its silvery dust,
where you glow in your faith as you should and you must.
No AI was used in the creation of this content
The raging wind,
pelting down sheets of rain onto the earth,
ruffling the feathers
of the ducks, hunkering down low to the ground,
seeking protection
from the icy cold, the grip of the storm,
that shows no mercy, not to beast, man, plant or tree…
The storm awakens a raging
deep inside,
disturbed by the howls of the wind,
by the trees screaming in protest,
the mist clouding vision,
the rain dousing calm,
the cold freezing motion,
and the dampened light
keeping me stuck in its midst.
So I turn my back to nature,
to the windows, the sights my eyes behold.
I am drawn to the flames,
dancing in the updraft,
to the warmth radiating forth
from the black cast iron,
I move closer and closer to its reach,
to the company of the creatures
lying prone around this warmth,
and join their comforting embrace,
listen only to the purr and the crackling fire
and the sounds of contented sighs.
The world outside does not exist,
the chaos, the storm,
no longer can touch me,
I am safe in the arms of love
and the stillness deep within my soul.
No AI was used in the creation
of this content
