Broken Things Break Things.
Then Fixers Come to Fix Them expediently.
Only to remain too long and become broken too.
Because some beings would rather remain broken and blue.
And you might come between them and their method of obtaining sympathies…
And, this, is a dangerous thing to be.
Not saying this is everybody, more like… Beware of the house in the wood made of candy.
Don’t do things out of your means, not even when asked, please.
Be aware those asking may be programmed and invested in shattering their surroundings.
Their identity depends on distorted reflections and mindless consumption.
Proceed with discernment, please.
They can’t comprehend blooming.
Only consuming the last bit of flesh from the living hosts in their surroundings.
Zombies that feed. Bodies that breathe ever indebted to Life.
Remaining willfully ignorant of the laws above and beneath, inside each.
Governing according to intentions running deep.
If only they knew the only vein they needed was inside them all along.
The answer to everything, hiding, never all gone.
thumping along to their heartbeat, just waiting beneath,
all the dirt, all the separation, and judgment they keep nestling.
It’s not my place to change a damn thing.
They are an extension of sovereignty same as me.
I am simply here witnessing, leading a hand when asked specifically.
And only if Life will allow me.
Right now, I’ve got my eyes set on becoming.
The truth is simple. Most don’t want to think.
Most don’t want to do anything requiring effort and so… their mentality sinks.
Until vultures are circling the spiritual stink.
When one piece falls out of alignment the others stay in sync.
One after the other, toppling like building blocks from the brink.
It takes discipline, compassion, and determination.
It takes a reliance on more than just our surroundings.
It takes strength to pick up broken pieces independently.
But trust and believe there is no sweeter juice to squeeze.
It takes Boldness and intuition to know where to place each piece.
It takes gumption to get it wrong and begin again, and again.
It takes wisdom to see through the veil of insanity.
It takes grace to find gratitude in the process of refinement.
It takes patience to keep calm while finding placement.
It takes love to receive more of it.
Sometimes love has to be pulled from dis-ease.
Then, it takes glue to fix the leftover pieces.
To Fuse them together again.
To mend the mind is to make an ascent.
To heal the spirit is to reach the internal summit.
To reach up to the sky and receive a renewed heart is a blessing.
It is a creator thing, to bring light back into a darkened scene.
And what is God but the construct of everything,
placed in a central focus by grace to cater to our cloaked comprehension?
And who am I to assume I know anything? Who am I but something living?
Which means I’m maybe tuned to what’s living in me?
I guess we will see.