peace world

The world comes down to this:

hand

pen

paper

sun

light

wonder

bird song

water

green

life

flowering

am writer, will travel

Am writer, will travel to seek the company of other writers. I don’t care where they meet, I don’t care what time of day it is, I don’t care the genre they write in.

Am writer, will travel to seek the words of wisdom scribbled on the page, to hear them spoken within the confines of safety, to know that a truth has been spoken.

Am writer, will travel to seek the challenges of the mind, to harbor no judgments save the fine crafting of letters typed on a screen, to ponder another time when minutes are flightless and the world is confined to the outside.

in triplicate

“… a yawning cat converts stretching into praise.” ~ Lance Larson ~

               ****

Converting stretching into praise

one must find the center within

Where all breaths are made

Within this space there is a melody that sings to every life

The notes blend in harmony

With nothing more than a glance

Where valleys and hills come together in a dance

It is here you’ll find the space

To bring the world its grace

It is here you’ll find the rhythm

Where minds can explore

Within the shallows of the shore

Converting stretching into praise

one must find the center within

 

                ****

Wandering notions of my mind,

tear into the fabrics of my thoughts,

practiced lines become null

while grandeur leaps into the void

there is nothing like a good knock

to bring your head around to the point

across the space of sound

rejoicing within the lanes of time

hoping for events to rewind

leaving no stone unturned

hoping it will not burn

through the layers of defense

before you are stricken hence

too little

too late

too much

want more

want less

never before

will forever be enough

for thine is the power

of the third circles lore

               ****

To thine own self be true they say,

but no one knows which truth you are holding.

No one can see the depth of your heart,

the breadth of your soul,

the distance of your logic.

What ifs

and never befores

give way to why nots

and what would happens.

Tomorrow is another day

and the sun will always rise in the east

and set in the west

so why should the rain fall into the hinterlands of lust

and loathsome valleys of pleasure and pain?

Why not heed the tides of deception

and gather the reigns of truth

whilst the paths are diverging

into the shadows of the soul?

The world will not end.

The rain will still fall.

The moon will still wax and wane

among the stars and clouds

and the sins of the father

will be forgotten for the actions of the son.

There will never be a time

when more becomes less

because the legends live on

and the myths cater to the whims of the masses

too slow to change before the stories have begun.

There is no hill too steep to climb.

There is no river too harsh to cross.

There is no time

except the minute that is before you.

There is no change

except the desires held in one’s heart.

There is nothing except you.

darkness known

shades of darkness

cascading through my mind

wondering if I am blind

to the lights that shine

over and under and around and through

until the myriad of light and dark

mix to form

something new

something old

something borrowed

something blue

into a creation no longer unknown

poetic science

there is poetry in science,

lucid dreams in reality,

life in death,

creation in destruction

we only have to decide

which one our eyes will see

opening doors

through the light

of a shadowed window

lies the door to my soul

the darkening rays

mixing with light

are not something to fight

are not something to endure

they are something to marvel at

to revel in

to explore

questions answered

You ask me where my strength is?

You wonder why this is not crushing my world?

I walk the line of death. I listen to the sweet nothings It brushes against my ear and I shelter them within until their wisdom can be explored.

You ask me where my resolve is?

You wonder if I am breaking?

Have I not told you of my childhood? Have you not heard of the scars that have crossed over my flesh moments after I was first pushed forth into this world? Have you not heard of the various acrobatics I have performed in order to live this long?

This is nothing for a creature who listens to death words.

This is nothing for a creature who plays with the darkest of shadows and calls them to her by name.

This is nothing for a creature like me.