a falling blade is vibrant
it’s reach surpasses sight
fraying fuses and splitting dams
releasing the chains of fate
a thread of words and guesses
pulls me towards dark ideas
another blade slicing reality
carving demons out of clouds
i called the monster darkness
but has absence ever left a scar?
the mirror reveals these marks
their signature, only a reflection
[notes: another older, darker poem]
Hello God. You must be God since you KNOW no one is reading this thread.
Obviously God, you must have read something in here. You cannot know that no one is reading it.
…and what is spam? Google says that it is irrelevant or inappropriate messages sent on the internet to a large number of recipients.
What is irrelevant or inappropriate about these thoughts/words/emotions?
In our imagination,
we can see a world of peace.
Where the momentum of existence,
never rends our soul.
It’s weight never crushes us -
never tears us apart in cosmic depths.
…
I reach for my family,
with all my being.
Let the heavens crush me.
Break me and discard my pieces.
I will not shy away.
I will not run.
Let me suffer -
If this be the cost.
That vainglorious search is never really forgotten, and it’s recall is always resting on just that side of the eternal muse-ich
The truth of their lives -
written behind, beside & before us.
Spiralling paths speaking possibilities.
What once seemed a bewildering maze,
of choice once chosen,
clarifies the steps of another.
Our threads woven together,
stretching through ages -
a structure in ecology’s template.
Our movement may smooth to a glide,
and float by pits of the past,
yet time is ever fleeting -
the stage of life’s theatre proceeds.
After walking high and low,
perhaps it’ll all make sense.
Where strangers will be no more -
one’s kin ever widening.
The gems of their lives glistening.
Buried behind, beside, and before us.
Only hidden by the muck of our ignorance,
to be revealed and cherished with wisdom.
With this, each step a gift.
To rediscover their pearls.
Until our scene of play ends,
and we set it all down -
with one new addition.
‘A tale as old as time.’
If existence is a circle,
how could hell be eternal?
For my nephew and I,
made up silly stories,
while giggling and laughing.
I’ve seen heaven in his heart -
and it’s my home.
I am eternally blessed.
Second that e(motion)
Dads lay their stories
Stacked from high to fill our ears
Aches for time to morph
[ I can make meaning from my suffering, and the suffering of my family.
If the same cycles continued, what would have our experiences been?
Unnoteworthy? The status quo? The standard? … Acceptable?
I will not be quiet. ]
The love I give, is a reciprocation of the world’s.
And the love I receive, a reciprocation of my own.
Let love reflect, rekindle & rejuvenate our spirit.
Let it give us wings, and empower us to soar.
Let us sow the seeds of hope, wherever our path leads.
Let us build our garden in the sun,
and laugh, play & dance into the night.
We can cry in reflection, reminiscing on the ebbs & flows.
Let the spirit embrace it all, for that is love.
And it is love, that has the power to lift us.
Love that has the power to heal.
Love that has the power to break the chains.
Love that guides us towards the light.
I can heal, by allowing love to radiate through my being -
then I will be in it’s light, radiating it outwardly.
If I can give pure, unconditional love -
I am giving others the opportunity that I was bestowed.
I have healed family.
I have seen my influence slowly unfold.
Seen the possibilities,
ripped them from callous clutches,
held their heads above water,
guided them into the light,
shown how to build from solid ground.
And they now begin to fly.
And the weight on my shoulders,
of carrying my family,
is slowly lifted.
They are strong.
They are healthy.
My plan worked.
I succeeded.
The intergenerational trauma,
ended with me.
I resisted you.
I surpassed you.
I stood like a soldier before you,
and methodically defanged you.
The grotesque monster,
of barbs, fangs, claws, bile and
other atrocities collected in it’s rolling gait -
no more.
Underneath it all, but myself.
A memory and reminder -
I need only look at these scars.
[ Someone said they think we all die alone.
It took some time to think of how to disagree. ]
I think the closest people can be,
is when they hold each other in their hearts.
Then the body’s location isn’t most important.
People live, and have a home within each other -
carried wherever they go.
We all have loaned a body from the earth,
but surely we can make good on the opportunity.
Such that the energy that comprises us,
is on a worthy journey in our being,
than swirling aimlessly in an abyss.
We can swirl about with meaning!
A smile on our faces,
and a warm kin-filled heart -
grateful to be along for the ride.
Ideally, trying to warm other hearts,
with our presence, the world’s & their own.
A kinder play on life’s stage,
than stories of woe & tragedy…
best wishes,
I wish I could free your heart.
That the world’s beauty may lift you.
Such that you may fly beyond us,
and lead the world towards the light.
I wish you never regret a moment.
That you see how we all hold each other together.
How the darkness and light are one.
To love existence without curse.
The darkness is space for love to shine.
Opportunity for your power to be revealed.
To be transformed by your being,
and warmed by the light of your wake.
You are a miracle.
Pearl of the abyss.
Eternally captivating.
Heart of my heart.
_
It is hard to see a person^ in a kind light, after the vitriol they have previously spewed.
[size=85][ Forgiveness, understanding, & compassion.
I wish we can all find that in our hearts, Mags.
None of us are innocent -
One ought know this too well.
Fight the good fight &,
fly away from my lowly self. ][/size]
I know this all too well.
We have pure spirits who are thrown into this world and have to reality orient.
I’m a being pulled out of oblivion…. Probably been there forever…
Beings like me get confused here.
This is a word realm. A realm where people still speak because their tongues aren’t tired yet. Eventually you use all the words and stop speaking. This species isn’t at that level of growth yet.
Some say oblivion is self imposed, or maybe it’s not , because they really don’t know what they say, to justify what they do without having to say it.
Dunno getting lost is no picknick.
Who is nick? .
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