One day, I had a vision of someone I had burned a bridge with. In the vision, this person was in a magical setting, and filled with vitality. The vision sealed the benefit of the relationship, and assured me that this person was well. Here are the words, since my recording skills leave a lot to be desired and you might not get some of them:


Disconnected
An entity severed from its origin
And I go back
And realize
I never left

I have no need 
To hoard you anymore
I see you in between the trunks of trees
Lit from the roots
Your face streaked with rain

It’s a place shot through
With a delicious pain
Of having been gone so long
And returned to find my seedlings grown
They grew in spite of me

You grew in spite of me

I see so much rain
All around you
I see you
Where you were born to be
You belong anywhere elemental
Whether the element be sand or moss
You belong

Not a day goes by that I don’t think of you
Not a day


You Belong Anywhere Elemental

My retina burns a hole in the sky
An escape hatch to climb out of 
A place for me to emerge
Unshaken by years of paralysis

My fingers break the wind into streams
Tributaries that form a network
Of veins gripping a cocoon
That disappears in increments below the clouds

My grief is spent before it hits the ground


A Flight Pattern

The exoskeleton that once was happily unaware of its own existence
	Does not want to die
It makes a painful joke of its own splintering
Hoping others will not notice the trail of debris

The core of being has passed from the arc of a heartbeat
	To the silence in between
And this will never do justice
To what everyone else expects

Exoskeletons guard heartbeats, rightfully so
	In order to protect illusions 
While the heart itself lives in silence
Awaiting the day it is known


Exoskeleton

Plant Something . . . Anything

An Abundant Harvest/Simple Gifts

Practice Practice Practice

Maynard, I Love You

A seed grows into a seedling and if you listen closely, this is what it sounds like.

From Seed to Seedling

I play piano and I enjoy talking. A lot. I enjoy talking over my digitally-created sounds. I talk about things that are frustratingly obtuse and hopelessly inaccessible. I call this "poetry". I am obsessed with Creativity. I consider Creativity to be part of a Trinity that also includes Spirituality and Intuition. (Actually, I don't think that was my idea . . . I think it was someone else's. But, really, who thinks an original thought anyway? We live in a recycled, renewable world. Ideally.) 

PlateletNinja