.

A shift and a twist that has been begging to happen, does, and suddenly you’re forced into a new direction.
We are the captains of the ship but even the most seasoned navigators can’t predict wild winds.

Sometimes its not as gentle as you had hoped.
You must keep up, keep on top of and roll with it.
It may hit you like fury with everything at once,
Redirecting you along your new path against your resistance.

Sometimes it’s gentler than we ever imagined.
A midnight shift of direction, barely felt, but with every movement from there on after, you find yourself softly off course.

Catch your bearings and adjust, know that it is in your fate to flow.
Catch the current and ride.
Or ankor down, batten the hatches and fight because the waves are relentless, they ebb and flow to move you.

If I stand amongst forgiveness

Although it is often darkness, self-pitty, broken heartedness or pain that brings my pen to paper, tonight I’m brought here by love.

An inspiration hits me and manifesting from this new perspective comes soft colours and dreams that smell like linen, fresh off the line.

I turn to my heart and feel my attention soften,projecting onward into the future. Sights and scenes emerge of country roads lined with stone fences, wild flowers and a young woman stepping into her power with grace.

I see a wood shop who’s dusty floors are scattered with candy wrappers and electric cords , I see a man stepping into his power, with grace.

I exist somewhere amongst the flowers and the dust, settled on the ground, summoning all I know of divine life to my side, welcoming experience and gazing into the wind.

My heart feels lighter if I think of forgiveness.

My mind is free when I remember love.

I hold my hands to my chest, close my eyes and breathe deep.

I can feel the breeze and smell the soup and I think I know what it feels like to find myself there.

I didn’t know I had within me, all that I’d ever need,

The world told me, search outward, and I happily agreed.

I didn’t know about my power or the fire in my veins,

I thought my worth was monetary and that everyone had lanes.

What started small has only grown since I begun to see,

that I didn’t have to find it, I could feel it and just be.

This life will carry you to beaches and shores only meant for you,

if you jump into the currents and learn to sway within the blue.

Its the chaos in creation that fuels ever expanding life,

Limits are soft butter and desire is a knife.

I feel the fire soft inside me, smouldering as I glow

I let it lead, I trust in me , its all I truly know.

It’s in the way the winter lingers that I can’t forget my tears.
The way the night falls silent, still.
I’m taken back to once lost fears.

A late April snow storm feels like home to me. I lean to this chilly reminder like a junky leans on pills.
The way I feel when the summer sun sets quiet under hills,
the kind of fading memories that weed and whiskey kills.

The crispy snow on mornings after nights of endless wind,
even sunshine begs to harden, cover softness deep within.

It’s the way the winter lingers long after spring time shows,
holding onto pains once forgotten, in hidden snow piles beneath the bows.

I’ve bathed in icy waters to wash away a days hot sweat,
turned down a hot meal,
to fill my belly with regret.
My nights I’ve filled with sadness, while ever looming in the back,
restlessly seeking aknowledgment, is the positivity that I lack.

If you hear me say I love you, it’s not really what I’m trying to say.
I mean to tell the oceans that their tides could never pull away such anchored affection
If they rocked and swayed all day.

I mean to say unto the mountains, that they have never seen
the heights of my admiration or the spaces in between.
For what I hear when I say I love you
Is a whisper, where I meant to scream.

The skies got nothing on us,our horizons will out span
Im only me and you are you
The stormy woman, the stone man.

I’d shout into the hillsides, down valleys, over cliffs
“A love like this is part of you, Together we exsist”

The magnitude of movement
growth upon decay
Building a base upon broken branches,
sturdy as we sway.

If you hear me say I love you, know that its not only that I do.
Its that I have, and will forever,
as long as you want me to.

Not everyone gets me.
But those that do know that I fly with tarnished feathers, blown rough with a million trys.
Those that see the way I feel know that I run wild with the wind.
Although steady, unpredictable, it flows meaninful and chaotic

I see those that see me, and I know that they can feel the way I love, as my heart reaches and retreats.
I may flutter, flounder and fail but didn’t I give it my all?
Balls out, all in, for as long as it felt right anyways.
If it doesn’t serve me well it’s not for me, but if it does, it is.

Not everyone gets me but those that know me, know that everything is because of you.

I’d say that it is my mind that keeps me here, not my heart, because my heart would never burry me deep in this self-doubt. My heart knows how to respond while my mind shush’s and sits me down inside these walls.

It’s a terribly beautiful, whimsicle thing, wind, as it silences birds and people alike. Taking what we think we are and tumbling it around, waving in and out of reach and comprehension, only to fall short of vertical gain.
Leaving you alone and shivering on the ground.

If I hide here a little longer, waiting for the passing turbulents , I can surely keep this peace.

I could declare the outdoors forbidden, surviving safe and warm and fed.
Or I could come back to the notion that an awakening entity lies within the dirt and the rocks and the rain.

Without a doubt,
I would say that sometimes I just really like being inside looking out.
But as the pine trees sway and whistle for me, I wonder what playing in the magic of these elements might bring to my ever doubtful mind, the message of my heart?

“just go”.

To write as my sister dances.

A longing to create beyond the reaches of others, to exist in such a place that needs no recognition to be poignant, a desire to find what only I know, this drives me to step away.

The raw essence in art and in self expression births magic when left unhindered.
There is an immeasurable quality when you experience truly inspired expression. Something born of all that allows your mind to be your mind, the purest form of you. Only something so exact could reach so many, what your truth represents, echo’s and smoulders into all that stands in its wake.

My biggest aspirations are only good if they can be great in silence, no power from ego, no gain from self-righteousness. I ache to feel my glow so deeply that everything surrounding me fades out. When I reach the pinnacle of my plight there will be no roar of glory, for my greatest achievements will need no chorus to exude, my highest truth.