I tell myself things, a lot lately. In writing, in speech, in thoughts that I think.
Maybe too much it seems. Compensating for something?
Maybe… Or is it a bell resounding, echoing through my hidden valley?
Reveal the truth to me so I don’t seek so deep I sink,
forgetting the sun ever reigned above me.
So please, inside companion show me what I am missing.
Help me, discernment return to me. No overthinking.
Had a whiff of this recently, not a space for good footing.
Hard to hold on to anything, everything slipping through the cracks
forming to show me, that I was in a shell since way back.
Expanding, freefalling, suspended in a dark space.
Surrounded in visions of what had been. Palate cleared, hues renewed,
the earliest memories motivate me. The view from the top of the tree that released me.
Trusting my strength and ability to carry its kind through the environment surrounding.
More like antigravity, jet engines pulsing to keep me moving.
Drifting through spaces unsettled, no place to put my feet,
so I spin and swirl, through the machine, witnessing
and flipping scripts and switches where illumination is needed.
An active observer. imaginally gifted, no roots tethering,
so that must mean they rest inside of me, in pulsating veins and streams,
feeding the lands and gardens between, fruitful and ever-blooming.
Released, teach me to set free what doesn’t belong to me. Let best wishes be all I store in my keep.
Don’t let rot or waste eat away at me. Make my limbs ever green and fruit-bearing.
Asking and imagining wonder and beauty renews vigor in the blood
restoring health to the bones and flow to the brain. A dangerous thing to any who might be afraid of change, only to find change is everything.
Nothing is stagnancy, I’m filled with excitement or anxiety,
all a matter of perspective, same chemistry, mostly,
only one is good for me, and the other is poison, literally.
Faith, belief… such funny things. Like it’s always wearing two faces.
Always operating in either direction…
Stillness is different to me, both lead to some form of living and transforming,
and all hold beauty. Life is such an amazing mystery.
What we see, can change immediately after, reimagined.
Found myself kicked into my body. The cage contained to the dust.
A fine-tuned machine, gathering rust. Time to think and view the pieces missing.
Then, I get to buff, remold, and repaint me, I submit to Life, Your preference.
The artist that rendered the rules I see unfolding daily, inside and out of me.
As miraculous as it is mystifying, but who can see?
Looking out, I see so many like I used to be,
bumping around in the dark I’m creating… I turn on the lights,
so I can see what I’m missing so tremendously,
Gotcha! Had my eyes on that box, too long,
lost in my imagination, no ignition… action needed.
Got tired of running in circles that did me nothing.
So now, I stand at attention asking and awaiting the answer that comes to me.
Turning the engine and it seems to give me nothing.
I know it’s all in my head, I need to stop watching,
and let what’s bound to boiling, be, while I do my thing.
Has me remembering moments, I couldn’t see missing keys.
Now visible to me above and beneath everything. Dots and strings.
Each piece organically seeks placement, their purpose to be seen.
Stuck to the bottom of the box, waiting for me to notice they were missing.
In the moonlight, its silver lines find me, as I sleep, recharging the treasures I keep.
By daybreak, each new view is dancing me to my feet. Guiding by delight.