Reaching out beyond the dream of what you thought was real, spinning on this ball of life, head now under heel. Ready to die, to live this life so raw, alive on ledge- dancing, hurling, freeing your soul to finally stretch the edge.

Friday, February 25, 2011

Rain on me

Wrapped in this warm, brown blanket
Snug in my big, cozy white chair
Listening to the sounds of silence
Reaching through the chilled, moist air
Engaging the world of what will be
Fantasy woos then sets me free
But am I dreaming, or is this real?
The rain is waiting for me

Raindrops lightly tap the window
their noise a soothing harmony
Listen to their choral cleansing
Echo through this silent dream
Oh what will come and what will be
I welcome euphoria's drowning ecstasy
Down it rolls- the first weighted drop
And I am swimming in the rain

Monday, February 21, 2011


If I draw a line in the sand
it might not be straight

And if I did it would soon
disappear with a wave

Treasure filled journey

uncharted course, undefined

With this compass most true-
my heart... not my mind

When I give knowing that there is no guaranteed return, my gift becomes that you received what I gave.  And that is enough for me.  If you cherish what it was you found, my cup will run over.   -Lala

Tell me, what do you want me to do, to do for you, to see you through?                                                           -Robert Hunter

Sunday, February 13, 2011

Wisdom blows

More than a year has passed since I lived through this day.  It was an anniversary which was once celebrated, reduced to a pile of shard-laced rubble, too painful to dig through, but which now no longer wrecks me.  Like that mountain that nearly killed me to climb, as I walk away, on the other side of it, I am no longer overwhelmed... it diminishes.  What you see depends on where you're standing. 

Understanding never comes all that easily when you're standing alone, sifting through the rubble.  The ability to move on comes at a higher price when forgiveness is not asked of, or given to you.  I read a book last year titled, "Wisdom Bowls," which suggested that we need to come to our own conclusions in order to move past our grieving.  Truth, like sight, is subjective.  We can never know what is in the heart or reason of another.  We can only know the recipe of our own mixture. 

Decide for yourself what really happened and just go with it, is my simplistic paraphrase of the book.  This very "truth" will fill in the cracks and allow you to fill that bowl with wisdom, is the basic resolution which the author offered.

I try too hard.  Always making something out of nothing.  From memories of wonder that flashed every now and then in my life, I have held onto that feeling like an addict always trying to attain that HIGH again.

Love isn't a thing.  LOVE is the sum of all that you are It is the end result of your hurts and triumphs, the elixir of your hopes, dreams and desires.  But it is nothing until you choose to bathe another in its gift.  A simple smile for a weary stranger... a helping hand for a neighbor... a kind offering for a friend in need... and maybe, if you're really lucky, a heart that will take yours, and do the same for you.

Ahhh... swimming in this notion that is known by so few... tell me what was love before I loved you?

The direction of my gaze abruptly pivoted skyward
As I remembered to look for a shooting star

As if there was a sale on sky lights
Heaven displayed its abundance of wealth and wonder

My eyes scanned the vast canvas
But were drawn to the line of mountains

Which cut the sky as waking cuts through dreams
As if kissed by g~d I longed to see the shooting once again