Fine-cut Diamonds Have Multiple Facets, each face catching the light and sending it away differently. Unique and priceless these fleshy prisms… It’s what makes it what it is… In my book at least.
In me I find all characters and scenes, awaiting their time in the sun. The fool, the magician, the queens and the kings, the pages, the scribes, the gardener, the wild thing. The outcast, the underdog, the victor, the villain, all hats in my closet… just waiting for me to come calling.
The hero, the heathen, the liar, the glory hound. All misused moments meant to shine and deliver a new dose of shared chemistry. Within context. So many nuances, too many chefs who weren’t there can muddy the water, kicking up silt in my dreams. It dirties the air with useless debris has me answering questions already known to me, and to explain, is to twist nuance and context into outside frames, no longer living free in me. Confession, simply release. Anyone can achieve the state with ease with enough practicing, meaning the outcome of time and attention paid to the new bed being made, planting flowers and necessities for longevity. No less poisonous than choking, are those who speak more so than churn while listening quietly a deprivation of peace, anyone demanding explanations above current reach, would likely fall prey and become a victim of their own expectations. Practice outweighs preaching. One produces, and the other takes energy like a leech hidden in cloaks of skin, messenger bags of characteristics and traits we tend to feed. Only catalysts if holding to tightly. To speak without the intention of listening is like lighting a match to find a gas leak. It’s guaranteed to intensify the ingredients contained in each, turning up the heat until their ability to burn hot and go heavy consumes the room surrounding.
If it comes to sniff me from the outside, I’ve been entertaining content complicit with their attitudes and characteristics being attached to others. Now, a battle of wills fights for shared territory, me with the home advantage, only I don’t have the understanding to unlock it. Help me see with clarity that these natures are useful if kept on a leash, that never extends the lead outside of me, squashed at the door, and denied entry. Find me whispering thanks to each.
To the Adversary, in me, the jig is up. To the actors embodying things I’ve considered in silence, thanks to these I now have the wings to fly above their reach or walk among them, unseen. Feel invisible some days, others, like something is covering me. The best, I’m too busy playing to notice it entirely. Mindset is everything, decides how much of me is allowed to shine through at any given moment. I never change, only the view. An unfolding love story forms between, filling me, delivering love notes daily, and sealing the seams. Until I’m overflowing.
I pursue each reflection ardently, proclaiming my love for what lies underneath, Everything. The Beloved eyes behind 40 trillion versions I’ve been. Mirrors I’ll spend my free time shining. Until they reflect what’s inside the blueprint I’m housing like sunshine, free for all I meet, a bubbling wellspring that feeds me through everything I see.
Everything I witness an answer to something I’m thinking, am I listening? Or feeling led by the nose through each scene. Me v Me, or Me, myself, and I the three strand cord I bind thee together strengthened by the living river running through me. Tethered to the warm currents I allow them to lead me it torrents and beams. Strings weaved to perfect the tapestry of all things beaUtiful in me. And so I see this view in every body I meet some hate me for what they see but that’s not up to me. Stand and deliver is how I meet my Everything in every portal I’m passing. Authentic or afraid, these are the root of each choice pushing, leading, or pulling me in my direction.
Each scene, no matter how much it haunted me, was for my molding. I look in the mirror and see what I gained. And all I feel is gratitude, even for the most jacked-up things, time to put all cards in play, all the tricks to better my energy each day. A game of immunities, I am immune to everything I’ve kicked out of me, infected to build strength internally. Starting to witness a pattern. Had to see how I oriented myself, and so the bat-signal drawing all else to unfold before me, all the moments leading to I told you so’s simply me reading from the script. The cast and crew fell into the stage placement agreed upon before dancing, action the outcome of time and energy.
Have to dance through my internal venues, to see what I have on the menus, so to speak, to check my currents catch me cooking. Trying the dishes as they come to me personally. Until I’m resting comfortably in my skin, ever-changing to align with the energy remolding my reflection. A mirror is provided inside to catch colliding energies, creating cocktails and sauce to the spec sheet each is containing, isn’t it funny?
Each sees the mountain differently, seasoned by where each has been, at what moment. And how they each connect. Strings tugging, drawing resonating strings to tune the harmony, to make myself fit into spaces that didn’t suit the view I step into, naked basking in the sunshine that finds me. Enjoying myself, key, to lightning striking continuously.