A scathing lifeline descends upon the premise unnamed. As precious frayed, as it ever was first believed.
Finding one's center is never as simple as making a decision, a statement or declaration that says "I will find a grounding today"
Earth rests beneath. immobile yet spanning a distance beyond the present scope of script.
nestled warm beneath one's root, too often becomes the occupation rather than the desire.
We travel expansive depths to share our blood unto the soils in which we sow our seeds within/upon
limitations are not endings. chapters are intermeshed, entwined. codas everlasting. Plots are open, free to challenge, to explore. We are afar despite within our beds we sleep. We are home in spite of the location of our presents find our blood within.
Limitations are bound only to this realm. limitations have not been proven. They are every only guesses garnered upon the soul by the souls of the untested
I have a story to tell. It may not be of interest to anyone other than ghosts. Yet I can speak to them. That is, if I have the proper crystals to meditate upon. and if you'd hear them sing, then song would inspire you to locate future's boundaries yet unclaimed.
Darkness breaks before the dawn shimmers it's first quivering fragment of light. Dawn glides gently into the blanketing surrounding of dusk, enveloping us in a deluge of evening that is as unique as it is not rare.
We move between many worlds. We shift seamlessly in and out of. We are unaware, yet knowledge does indeed subconsciously divide.
Fortune is not measured by coinage accrued. if it did... well, many of us would be as poor in health as we are in walking daylight,
a burden. inhaling our castes. to haunt everlasting.
distorted then. askew. yet pierced with fire, singed by frozen blade. disoriented yet not afraid. for conscience bears wherewithal. A knowledge harnessed deep within. albeit brutal the manner to which our days be spent. regretfully, the tides may disencumber what's been made, what we've toiled our entire lives to find, work towards, and yet the tides may disencumber if deemed to constrain the growth our gardens had originally been planted for.
Solstitial flagellation is found and you know not the accepted course. Stars scream as you encounter the laceration's of truth's gaze.
in-tune to a silence that sleeps as peaceful as most lions wake
Indigo guidelines harbor the beacons evenly placed upon the placid calm. Silent refrains echo from above, beneath. Breath is abbreviated, yet full. Eyes are clouded and murky, but see we do. Touch is invisibly felt, yet immersed we thrive. words mean nothing when in-submission. thoughts though, they build temples upon stars.
a grey net meshing collapses over our nestled tombs. As if materials from this realm can ensnare those who walk the avenues unseen.
Eyes. alit. Reawakened. Whole. Renewed. Alive. free
Lifetimes are but a rambling of decades. Decades a corroboration of years. Years collect the seasons full. Seasons take their wisdom from the months endured within. months succumb to the days that fight direction. Days are comprised of hours. Hours then of minutes. Minutes of seconds slipping silently yet not as slow as one would seem. Patience though is timeless
a present to the blind
and our necks can see
forward, up and wide
as if movement was never meant to be, yet be, it does just the same
the spine straightens
and the ghosts
well, they remain….and that is fine
for they should not inspire fear
we should not run,
invite them to the comfort that they seek
thank them always
for their presence
is a gift
the grounded can properly conceive.
Karin's opened up the bar and is at the helm of this week's Poetics at D'verse. Stop on by, read her article and those poems written in response to her offering of Presents/Presence.
For me, I thought i'd do a guided stream of consciousness piece, that incorporates some eastern concepts while trying my best to stay as true as possible with this week's theme.