How can something be less than nothing?
How do wrongs become righted?
I wonder if something could be
anything other than what it seems.
I wonder if there are never rights and
A speck of light
Beyond it only darkness;
Beckoning for a shot of redemption,
a savior, a place to belong.
How ever did it appear?
How did my eyes now blurred come to know it
as something I could grasp, hold on and cling to?
When falling, anything solid will do.
How did our minds come to create this–
A messed up world where
souls are traded for skin
and lives are considered a sin?
I see her — the wolf mother. I see her as I see myself. She stands, stoic; a look of fierceness in her eyes. She’s strong and beautiful; a blazon spirit, tender in heart. But do not dare threaten the young she protects lest you fall into her snare. You then will find yourself pitted deep below the peel of the earth. She will unravel you, slowly without equivocation, sinking her teeth within the flesh of you, ripping you apart. All that could sustain her she spits back out again, for no trace of evil must enter in. She is to remain pure and undeterred. She is the righter of wrongs. She is the wolf mother. She knows no other than to carry on.
Last night after I saw that I gained a few new followers since the poem I posted yesterday morning, I couldn’t help but wonder at who those people are. Who are you? Where are you? And how is it that I am able to connect with so many different people out there who I know absolutely nothing about?
I’ve always been shy about sharing my writing, especially when I worry it will expose my vulnerability and all those emotions I’ve never been allowed to have. Anger? What is that? Resentment? There’s no need to address those feelings. You just grin and bear it or so I learned.
Except that for me, I found other outlets. And writing was one of them. Talking about my true feelings to anyone has almost always seemed impossible. But writing about it, that’s another thing. I’ve always kept it to myself, however; I am a very private person. I guess maybe it’s fear of rejection. Nevertheless, I finally got the idea and the nerve to put it all out there for you, my (at least somewhat) faithful readers. There are like 47 of you! I know in the world of blogging that’s nothing. But let me tell you, I am thankful for every single one of my 47 followers.
The idea that I have “followers” is an odd one. Like I’m some prophet or messiah whose words other people seem to hang on to, sensing that within them there is a truth to be endowed. I quite like this idea actually, but alas I have no knowledge to impart. Or do I? Surely there is some truth hidden in my musings or else none of you would even bother to waste your time considering them. (Although, people have been known to squander their time doing far more senseless things.)
The point I’m trying to make is that I am amazed at how we are each able to connect with perfect strangers from all across the world. Parts of me floating along across the airwaves and into your home. Incredible! I am grateful for you, whoever you are. Whatever it is you gain by relating to my writing, I assure you I also feel just knowing you’re out there with your own struggles, your own share of heartache, your own moments of light that keep you ever hopeful for a brighter tomorrow. This is all part of the human condition. And what greater purpose is there for writing than to reflect on exactly that: that which makes us human?
I input my thoughts into a robot and it becomes accessible to other robots which you, my fellow human being, can access and allow to enter into your conscious awareness. This is the 21st century at its best — Using the technology we’ve discovered to provide opportunities to connect with others. From one human being to another, thank you for being a part of my journey. I wish you all the best as you reflect and write about your own.
Did you forget
your infinite divinity?
Did you forget
we all came from the same?
One begets more of oneself;
my particles replenish unto themselves,
every moment captured in my being.
how to pinpoint the beginning of it all.
And so it seems,
everywhere I turn —
People scared of my fire
knowing not of my desire;
for by knowing would be
a blazing torrent of my soul,
leaving me no choice but to
cast my light upon them —
They who think only of themselves
have no room therefore
So there we are —
Creating a point of reference where
mistakes start repeating,
feelings become fleeting;
our lives always coming back to this.
There are blessings all around us,
there is good in each of us;
even the ones who make us crazy,
make us regret the day we were born.
I sit and stare at my reflection,
though not a mirror is in sight.
I ponder the great open window,
the darkness of the night.
I wonder how it is that two
can become one,
then back to two again;
an entity separating itself
so that it may know thy self;
a universe spinning out of control,
yet with exact precision and depth
so as to create something
star inspiringly beautiful.
you twirl your feathers so.
and you dance;
you seem to think
you know what you know.
But were you able to see
all you pretend to see,
you might be more inclined
to be as I looking on.
Not just a pretty bird,
a spectator of the show.
You’d see your promenade
as a mere disguise from
all that you hide inside.
May your gracious light shine upon me;
feel my body to be sure I am real.
There is security in what I see;
there is something to be made whole.
For a mere parcel am I made
of many parts
of a world,
an infinity of surprises
unfolding before me,
leaving me to wonder
how or why
through a break
there is light.
vulnerable and naked,
clinging to your warmth
as I surrender old dreams,
those that brought me here before.
I am one of you now,
my mind as limited as yours.
My memory serving me well enough for this life,
but not well enough to grasp
the timelessness of our existence.
When I met you I didn’t know what I wanted. I was running from something, unaware of the abyss I had stepped into. When I met you. But now my view is less hazy. And I see you and me more clearly. I can’t say for sure that I know what I want even now, but I know what I don’t want. What I don’t want is to end up a coward afraid of losing it all having gained nothing to begin with. And what I’ve gained from you came to me more after you left than anytime we were together. I’m not saying this is your fault. Nothing is your fault. You are you and I am me. Attempting to get you to see things as I do is a fool’s game. And not to dismiss all of the wonderful, loving ways you touched me and influenced my life. You were exactly what I needed. When I met you. But time wears on and patience wears thin. Love is something to be worked out but you want to play pretend. A child’s game. And a child I am no more.