Into the view

Wordless we lose ourselves into the view

beyond the scope of the physical of our here and now,

the rapture of peace prolong on stable souls,

etched in colors past our conscious realm,

we come to these places for sustenance and hope

gathering our miracles carefully

lest we fracture and crack

that which we so feverishly prayed for.

Nights silhouette calms the nerves frayed

as shades of bliss unite to find us

weighing our thoughts on our emotional scale

back and forth like the teeter-totter

on an abandoned playground field,

we slip our dreams between the stars that shine

for us we think,

always for us they come to find our minds

when in the softness of slumber

they slip in through the view beyond

and sprinkle us with their finest dust,

weaving about their tales untold

like storybook magic with happier endings

we lose ourselves as we melt on feathers

drifting off to find the end of day

meeting us in the middle

and sliding down into the oblivion

of a calm and peace

cherished.

Empty spaces

I stood before the blank canvas,

dirty walls waiting for words like graffiti to adorn

the scarred semblance of what once was

uniform indifference of childhood art

hard to discern

yet valued beyond measure.

Waiting in the cage trapped

eyes like the pained dog that cries in silence

hardship so easy to remedy

understanding so hard to embrace

as it is as it was

and the slate waits for the hand to take chalk

to draw the dream that still waits

after time wasted

the mind tired.

What is it that we do to inspire a heartbeat,

a pulse in rhythm,

music of the soul

that waits below the surface waiting for release

yearning for the moment to be free to be

and the moment comes

as we sit unsure where to move to next

left to right in this waltz of life

and as it returns to the same beat left behind

finally moving

flowing like the waves that waited for their name to be called,

to step up to the moment and wash away the past,

to ride on boards of thoughts

we surf the universe

we capture the stars in our hands like confetti

that falls as the celebration comes to its end

and we hang on dearly to that last little piece

afraid to let it go

to forget this moment

yet still happy for being in the moment

and at peace for the release.

I pray tonight my internet issues have come to their conclusion. It has been traumatic to me to say the least, just ask the Mr., but I pray I wake tomorrow to find my clean slate, the universal world synchronized and moving at its pace and that no more rising blood pressure will find me. I have missed a lot of catching up, having to clear my inbox of so many of you left to catch up on, and for that I apologize. Technology has never been my strong forte and from here on out I hope to be back to normalcy, God willing and the creek don’t rise I think is how the phrase goes. I’ve missed you, I’m back and tomorrow is a new day waiting….let the rhythm of life resume its pace, and leave me a happy woman once more. Peace and love and to all of my new followers, if I haven’t responded, unfollow and refollow and I can find you once more. ❤ K

Becoming

Beauty formed with skilled hands of a master, set upon pedestals in secret gardens, lush and serene in its silence. Light filters in from a sun that peers beyond clouds that are slow to move out of the way of the brilliance, and as she rises into herself each imperfection can be seen on the surface. All imperfection cannot be seen though, deep within the stone that was built over centuries lay minute cracks and fissures in the makeup of the whole.

The outer shell is worn with time, pocked with blemishes from outside forces, like wrinkles on a weathered face proud to carry each crease from days gone by and a smile that seems permanent on each corner that has stood the test of days long passed. 

Each year that passes, as we move into each second, each story that moves us, and each word we place in long strung lines becomes more sacred, for it is who we are. Faded pages forgotten come whispering back like a paper book left on a beach blowing aimlessly in the wind, back and forth yet still forgotten. A hand reaches down and examines the tattered remnants and we become intrigued and carry it away for a later read, or to hand it off to a friend who would enjoy this new gift. We pass these stories on sometimes, yet others remain hidden within, like the cracks and fissures in marble, too hard to find and release, sometimes better left there unseen.

We cannot remain hidden on the pedestal for long, as beauty always finds a way to be found, and upon discovery, the familiarity that we are all on the verge of becoming love begins to show. We open ourselves a little more, fear of rejection slowly dissipates as we realize it’s okay to be found, okay to be heard and seen. Each scar, each story takes on a new meaning when found that it is often universal, we have become to accept and love that which we see on the surface, that which we are and all we are still destined to become.

We are becoming love with each step taken and each piece of ourselves we leave behind, setting the weight aside we find suddenly we can soar, we can fly and as we stare at chronicles of our lives, each bit of joy, each bit of heartbreak becomes a slice of wind that carries us yet higher and it is there we are free, it is there we finally become whole.

I was thinking of statues that are beautiful in their sometimes heartbreakingly sad way, as acid rain deteriorates the forms, they are almost like humans that change over time, with wrinkles and scars and imperfections, it is when we tell our stories and accept ourselves that we become the love we seek, we become that which we truly are.