Eaves to Dreams

He rests there. Somewhere between her mind and her heart. 

Like a ghost, floating and simpering in the eaves of a willow tree.

Far lost to his queen, his own body, caught between worlds.

To cast aside; Crowning Glory. The wind at your back, and the trees singing their praises high up in the mountains.

He laid it all at her feet, begging for a new life of retribution deep in the forest. 

But this was not her adventure to lead, and not her land to claim. 

To Rule is to have divine power, which comes from the earth and from the heavens.

It can be granted and then shut down. If we are only slaves to our devices, our vices. 

And we want to rule them, seize control over our madness.

She watches him. Tipping and teetering. Looking over the edge of the boat into the darkest of waters, if only the spray of the cold ocean could wake him.

A second time, (in another lifetime?) she saved him, from the nuances of self destruction and denial. 

What was left after the storm passed, was this small gap between them. An impasse. 

She reaches out; but only just slightly, with tenderness 

The pain of missing him never ceasing.
– still, at her quietest moments; he is there, waiting, watching. Listening to her thoughts in the wind. 

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Feet Touching the Ground

Running is quiet space, like waves lapping at the shore.

Running is energy; is living; is breathing.

A Height like none other, asking for more.

Running is calm, collecting thoughts

That you let fall to the ground.

Running is I can do better, I always do my best.

Running is facing your fears, dripping in sweat.

Running is sprinting into your lover’s arms.

Running is sensory improvement, the air whipping at your face.

Eyes wide open; Running is water, is need; is desire welling up in a volcano as you fly across the finish line; Figurative and literal.

Running is escaping the constraints of linear time. Moving so fast you forget who and where you are.

Running is keeping your pace to draw out your energy.

Like a cat stretching in the sun.

Running is not running from, but to a destination. A new place.

Running is pain, but the good kind. The kind you need, the kind you’ve been searching for.

Running is reminding yourself that you have two legs and two feet.

Running is keeping you agile, quick, smart as a whip.

Running is like nothing other than being alive, and choosing to live.

The end of another year.

What’s one more milestone, in the slow progression

of tiny improvements. Still-the sickness

Wading through the days, keep your head above water.

I look to you, and I shouldn’t. Really.

The mirror of my soul, who does not deserve my submission.

Let alone, the grace and forgiveness

of every small trigger

This is a stalemate. A game not to be won, but ended.

 

If I am truly what you desire, show me.

Or lose me forever. I refuse to walk timidly behind you,

or kneel any longer.

 

The sands of time are slipping away,

my wanting fades by the hour

for your desire to awaken.

Sometimes, your words are like acid on my skin.

Eating away at my flesh,

Turn away from the mirror.

 

Inside, my heart is aglow

Filled with light.

That I once thought you saw in me,

burning so bright.

 

How wrong I was.

To believe that true love is reciprocal, naiive.

A two way mirroring,

of truth and desire.

 

But behind any pair of eyes,

There is shame, and fear

Loss of innocence

Begging for retribution

 

To be let go

But the only salvation

I’ve found to be true

Is pain, and laughter.

 

True love is friendship

In its most basic form

Never is it

Wholeheartedly, unconditional

 

If it was,

We would all be dead

Stomachs bleeding

Knife in the back

 

But for survival, for love

We wake up each day

Revel in the pain,

Own that shit

 

Or else, it will kill you.

Slowly, from the inside out.

 

Some, wear scars and tattoos

Like battle armor

Others, quietly hide their shame

Tucked away in their soft pockets.

 

Thinking that

Letting it loose, like a bird

When no one is around

Will make it go away

 

And yet, god is watching

And you can only let go, and let go again

But you are never grounded

Feet all in the air, like the world will

Turn upside down for you

If you could just show them god’s love

 

But they pity you, because of your

self righteous, ignorance.

I’ve gotten sidetracked, forgive me.

 

I am not the person I once was

and still am unsure what I am becoming

 

I could never let words,

fall from my lips as you do

And if they do, they are hardly

The right ones

But my silence speaks volumes.

If you are still enough to notice

It’s subtlety, and repose.

Essay Titled: The Writer Within

Too many times, throughout many years of struggling to say what is really on my mind without sounding unintelligent or mean, or fear of stuttering, I’ve forced myself to wait until the perfect moment, the apex of thoughts to rise up to the top of the volcano that is my heart; my bleeding heart and feel the molten lava spill over as the first few words are written on to the page.

It starts with one powerful phrase that swirls inside my head until it manifests itself on to the page and then there is a slow eruption of words dancing through my thoughts being drawn out through my left hand and into the very graphite or ink that I write with.

I let the pages speak for me instead of my vocal chords. This ensures that what I’m saying, will come out as the sophisticated and with the utterly deep, sincere and persuasive tone that I intend it to. If there is emotion within the content, I must sift through the anger and resentment in order to find that sanguine manner of speaking, so that I may say what I mean, and mean what I say; In all manner of perspective.

I suppose I need an audience. I need a quiet space, in my head where I can draw conclusive statements from my thoughts that are all-too-often broken into shards that come and go, or reappear consistently until I am obliged to write them down; or in less healthy ways-shut them out completely.

Although sometimes that isn’t quite possible, and I am sunk into some meditative state that can last for days or weeks; where I am not thinking about writing but instead pondering the way my thoughts exactly imprint the universe and my immediate surroundings. Albeit while this is happening clutter rises up all around me or the chaotic events of daily life take up most of the active space in my brain.

These are the cycles that I live within.

Occasionally they are broken, and through that crack there is a burst of creative light shining through. Waiting- but for a moment- to be grasped and explored for better understanding.

These are the processes; the accolades of a writer’s design and interworkings.

It began with the habit of stifling my spoken words, but never my thoughts. It never ends, either. The more my thoughts are left to simmer, to age like fine wine, the more rich and conclusive they become. People never expect silence. They expect hot and angry words to come flying from your mouth; like self destructive daggers in a fit of exhasperative defiance. It must bring some sastisfaction, I suppose; dripping with negativity. I detest this notion. It brings no peace.

Instead I’ve always found that taking a moment (or several), to reflect on the emotions that are rising and falling within me, examining them from all angles and then directing them on to paper is always more powerful and deeply satisfying compared to the former.

This is what it means to be a writer. To have such powerful thoughts that they refuse to be sputtered out of a mouth, to be wasted in a scream or a muttering nervous speech.

My Journey to Vegan – One Month

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Today’s marks a month of what I consume and what I feel in my heart speaking the same language – and there’s no looking back ❤

Someone shared this video with me, and it inspired me to want to write and also share the video with you. So, just a quick update – going vegan was ridiculously easy… please let me explain.

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Reasons to be Vegan

Surely the knowledge of the suffering of these beings should be adequate grounds.

Millions of animals (sentient beings) raised for the sole purpose of taking their lives…

Is the human race truly so disconnected from its own goodwill and clemency?

I recall writing a piece a few years previously on the subject of vegetarianism.

That was then, and in the light of social media and information sharing via intranet-

There has been much exposure on the food industry, factory farms, and the cruelty of our world.

I need not point you to a specific link or post a graphic picture as an example, the evidence is there; staring you in the face.

Fellow beings:

Our culture is conditioned albeit controlled in a very loose, lucrative manner.

I don’t know in what world, (I suppose it’s this one) it would be acceptable or even encouraged to consume the dead flesh of beings that are of a lower consciousness (yes, I’ll admit that) but are still aware and supraliminal nonetheless.

It is a common phrase to be said that- “You are what you eat”

Why shouldn’t this sentiment be exactly true?

If you consume, or eat or even drink something that has been produced (not to mention overly processed) by poignant torment and blatant slaughter, those affections still reside within said item that is called nutritious sustenance. Repeated consumation can only lower your bodies etheric and physical vibration further. Not to mention cause long term and serious health issues. ie. Cancer causing carcinogens, high cholesterol, heart disease, obesity, high blood pressure…. the list goes on.

These aren’t arguments or scare-tactics. These are convictions. Based on what Iv’e been exposed to.

I’m not here to present a slew of graphic and unnecesary (or even cute) photos and videos to try and frighten and shame you into changing your lifestyle and eating habits. That is for you to decide. I am simply and vehemently expressing my conjecture and surety on this undecidedly controversial avocation.

If what i’m presenting is making your eyes gloss over in a wave of indifference, I humbly propose that you take an astute review of your own character. (Possibly even test your tap water for large amounts of floride)

Your awareness will never hurt you.

It might be confusing, or feel uncomfortable to think about these things (If you took up my advice and have too been exposed to the horrors of this world), even overwhelming in the light of the powerlessness that many people feel when confronted with the large scale of atrocities that are happening.

Do this first: listen to your body the next time you put something that is a result of carnage down your throat.

I admonish you to not close your eyes and ears to what is happening.

To not shut down that switch in your brain that is open-mindedness and compassion.

I beseech you, fellow inhabitants of earth– climb out of, claw your way above if you have to; this negligent consumerism based cutlure.

I for one- have had enough. I’ve seen enough to painfully realize that there is little I can do to shut down Monsanto (although arson has crossed my mind), or make any real sort of change.

Except make the concious choice to eat clean.

 

Early Morning Musings

A cup of tea is the solution to being wide awake at 5:00 am, a somber day that is fresh and anew; thoughts of dreams held in the night come slowly and then drift away. A cold morning, is it May? One might be fooled into accepting such notions, at such an early hour. But taking care of my body, this earth- I am not fooling anyone. I am simply spiraling upwards, shattering all of my previously held notions. Satiated by stillness that is all of my own accord.

A spell for prosperity is brewing, but first gather the harvest, and give back to the sweet earth. Drink with her creatures, wine for the fae of milk and honey- we share these blessings.