Lost and Found

All my limbs can become trees:

It’s like being lost and becoming found,

all in one brief moment of stillness.

Having the world at your weathered fingertips

but clenching your fist instead

in the hopes of holding onto a feeling.

It’s when I breathe deep, and you

You are at the end of my breath.

Returning it to me, filling me up.

Extracting any air of emptiness

Consuming a void I didn’t know I’d had

Taking a trip to a place that only exists in an alternate universe,

where I am floating through time with no relativity

And you return to me, your breath.

Inflating my lungs

It’s a century, if just for a second

A world of questions answered in a mystery unsolved.

It’s a kiss

Strong enough to lose yourself in,

safe enough still

to have become found.

Turbulence

The heart says :"am hurting",time replies:" you will get better with me", then finally the mind:" but I will always come back with memories" Ω Cliquez pour écouter. Enjoy yourself !..................................................✤.Miley Cyrus Wrecking Ball✤:

 

I miss it, the turbulence.

Sick as that is, gnawing at my edges, trembling the tips of my fingers.

The never knowing-ever-wondering bliss, of imperfections in a disorganized world.

Freedom.

Toxicity brimmed choices, bags around my eyes,

spotted skin with signs of making decisions that I made on my own, for myself.

Cheekbones protruding, arms like twine, tightly wrapped, consoling.

No thought, no judgement, no expectations.

I miss it,

the volatile yet ever evolving relationship I had with just one person in the entire universe.

Myself.

Would I reverse, stand in the shoes of someone who lived in the past?

I already have, a thousand times, been cycling and rising through lives.

Sometimes,

I miss it, the turbulence.

I pray for it, the change.

All while dreading any uncertainty, fearing the worst but expecting it subliminally.

Why do we become weary as we grow old?

Not because things become impossible,

because we realize they are right within our grasp,

but we have chosen not to clench them in our grip.

Taken a different path, that will forever lead us to the same place,

forever advancing in the same direction.

Moving constantly but getting nowhere at all.

Forever and ever the same.

Flight risk, I told you.

And the murmur of turbulence calls my name,

asks me if I will sit right here,

or turn and run

And never look back.

The Karma Series – Law Two

Manifest...The Universe is constantly creating. With our every thought we add to that creation. May we always create that which is beautiful, joyful and loving.:

 

The Karma Series

2. The Law of Creation

“Life doesn’t just happen, it requires our participation. We are one with the Universe both inside and out. Whatever surrounds us gives us clues to our inner state. BE and DO yourself what you want to have in your life.”

My biggest fear in life is that I will get to a point when I am much, much older that I will not be able to do the things I have always loved. Life is a beautiful opportunity, and we are given life with the expectation that we make it to be everything it should possibly be. We can do this simply by doing the things that we love. When we are doing these things, whether we are doing them perfectly or we are just doing them for the sake of doing them, we are still PARTICIPATING. When we participate in things that shake our souls, motivate us and make us feel inspired and at peace we are in turn giving that positive energy to the world around us. The people surrounding us can feed off those wavelengths, and be motivated by your passion. Be passionate. Choose to create as often as possible.

The universe will thank you.

Pine Floors and Broken Doors

broken door

Pine Floors and Broken Doors

who are you when the lights go down

and all thats left are the shadows of your thoughts

and the aftermath of sudden dreams

who are you when im not there to pretend for

and will you expose that when the sun comes out

and begs for you to dance among the earths hidden edges

where were you when the rain fell, through the leaves of pine trees

through the openings in clouds so dense,

they covered the skies, as you run for cover

inside a house that consumes all your fear,

yet hides you behind broken doors

what are you dreaming about when the night moves in

slowly, and demanding, asking you for all your sins

who are you when im not there,

asking you for more

when the sky grows bleak, and your heart trembles in your chest

who are you then?

what are your thoughts when your surroundings surround nothing

but yourself, and will you show me that, will you let me in?

because I’m standing at the door to all your secrets,

just wanting and wanting more,

but i wont knock for a chance to get in,

unless you’re absolutely sure

your nightmares wont scare me the way they have scared the ones before,

and i was hoping that you knew that

i was hoping you would explore,

the depths of us and the depths of your body’s purest core

because you are to me, a mystery

with dog-eared pages, and highlighted phrases,

in order to understand you more

so who are you when all thats left to know,

is the you that sleeps inside the nights new skies,

and leaves me at the door.

Being Okay

make a wish

I knew it would get better. I knew it had to get better, and the funny part about it this time is that I recognized it when it did. Not slowly, not in the midst of it all, but all at once.

All at once it was okay, and all at once it was great. And there were nights in between that weren’t and there were days in the middle that were not. But then all at once, it was there. That feeling that is not really a feeling at all, that feeling of pure “okay-ness” that is so okay it goes unnoticed. That simply because it is just so unmoving it gets no attention. But it should, we should pay more attention to being okay.

We should pay more attention to not fighting a breaking heart, to being tired at the end of a day because we worked so eagerly at something we loved, we should acknowledge the presence of a conversation that may not be intriguing, but it is good and kind and easy. We should, I should, not always give so much weight to the times that are un-okay and start thanking our lucky stars for the okay moments. The moments that do not need to be spectacular, that you do not want to be spell-binding, they may be more important than the big ones.

There is something special about something being so easy that it is not thought about. Looking back, these may be the exact moments that brought us long term happiness. Not something that is so outstanding it seems to make you euphoric for a short amount of time, but the little things that group together in your life to become a world that is good. A world of good feelings, a world of waking up in the morning with hope for the new day.

We should acknowledge being a bit frustrated with the way things are, because in that is the motivation to change it. It is not unhappiness, it is drive to make things better. It is strength to recognize that we are not at the end of our rope, that our okay-ness, our being, is possible.

But all of the sudden, when we are okay, it may not feel like much but it is a lot. It is a great thing to be okay. It is a great thing to be at peace with the way things are, and the way they will go, and the way you feel. And all at once, when you are least expecting it, it happens.

All at once, it happens.

Dream On

Lying on the floor,
because your white sheets are too risky
A blurred vision of that smile,
strikes me like lightning
at sunset, sitting on the sand
where the sky turned pink and I fled to you
because no place else was ever an option
Spiraling around the room,
we voiced our recent adventures.
Taking for granted all the expenditures
that neither of us knew we were allowing
Months later and my heart has spent too much time on you
I haven’t told it not to,
in the hopes that the similarities I saw
when you caught me staring
had not in fact been pieced together by my imagination,
but that I truly know you better than you think I do.
Throbbing senses spark a jolt through my chest
when those eyes flash to the back of my mind
like an alarm for something I had forgotten,
I wish I had forgotten.
Yet my throat still tightens when you are next to me
So close and somehow a million light years away
Now that we don’t know each other, who are you
Now that I have strategically won
this game that includes you as a pawn
Where I have succeeded in tricking you into pushing me away
Is “I did it because I had to” ever good enough?
You frequent my dreams,
maybe because not only did I watch you walk away
I catapulted you off to another world,
a world where I don’t exist.
There you are, and here I am.
Fortunate enough that neither of our worlds are likely to collide
Unfortunate enough to be incapable
of letting the hope go that we’d coexist
My moves have been made,
and everyday I wish I could take them back.

2010

The Writing Process

Writing is one of the few things I find to be more of a release than a process. Rather than the logical step by step method of an arithmetic equation, or the tedious balancing act of a chemical solution, the art of language and the power of using it correctly has always been something that has come to me more as a natural instinct than a forced procedure.
Personally I view writing as I would view an action of any human being, the way it is handled and responded to should be based on the situation at hand. For example, I go about writing a research paper in a much more scientific and orderly conduct as I would if I were writing say, something like this. First, I tend to scrutinize every possibly topic until I find the “perfect” one, from there I will continue to organize my thoughts using an outline. Due to my personal beliefs that writing is less technical than many other subjects, try as I may, the organizational outline is generally left in the dust when I get carried away with thoughts. Once these scattered thoughts are all put onto paper, I edit them. Depending on the size of the “word mess” I have created, it can take one brief overview or hours on end of drafting and editing before the paper is just right.
In contrast, when writing something that I am passionate about, something that comes more from the heart than from my brain, I tend to let it be. Focusing less on over-analyzing the grammar and rhetoric, I shift my focus to make sure I am providing an interesting and passionate account of the subject. I find an angle; sometimes a certain emotion and I convey it to the best of my ability- without really thinking if it will be considered “wrong” or “right.” This is because one of the things I love most about writing is that despite all the rules and “I’s before E’s” of it, the writing process is defined by the writer not necessarily by what they produce.

The Writing Process
January 3, 2011