Repercussions of Blind Chaos

Officially spent. Nothing more is left to give. Caught up in the tornado and spun all around. No understanding of what is theirs and what is mine. Thinking clouded and emotions occupied with playing a disharmonious tune. A shot of inspiration is to be injected into this heart. Close to immediately. No right or wrong but dark. Mirky, heavy, and just dark.  Plain old dark in a space of where compassion is meant to be. And the burden keeps growing and pressing down and whatever has legs runs in all directions, like ants, with heads covered, screaming, blaming. 

There is a light somewhere shining. This much is certain. The leader has decided to take a long vacation, except he can't admit it to himself. And slowly the building is falling down until he, too, feels its load on his impenetrable head. He might see. 

To find a cure for the condition in which to function within constraints. Narrow thinking hard to shake. Yet to be caught in it is shame. And so the light is to be sought. Its ever-present showing is pressing. Keep looking for the constant within the fright around. This heart is due for a makeover until the next time.

Master's

It's not that I love you.  I can't even begin to get to know you. It's just that my appreciation for what you have done for me is so monumental, the tears of gratitude are ready to appear. 

It's not that I adore you. I can't even begin to understand the scope of you. It's just that you have so graciously flavored me with a millimeter, a mustard seed of your power, it brings me down to my knees.

It's not that I am capable of loving you. It's not that I am capable of knowing you. It's not that I am capable of adoring and understanding you. It's just that the breadth of your inspiration through wisdom and action,  the reach of your speaking through presence and non-action elevate this tiny creature to heights unimaginable. I can only hope to stretch as wide as this body will let, as large as this heart will allow, as powerfully as this energy will sustain, for,  in the end, what else is there?

...These words are, too, yours...

On the Way

To know me and be free-
The quest for all eternity.
The question came
And answers went
Into that air from this head.
It might take long,
Or it might not-
It's just a puzzle
To solve at night.

To know this, be free from that
Which seems to bind, 
Which won't give up.
Which wants to stand,
Which wants to crowd.
Deep down it knows
It has no clout.

To know me and to be free
This life keeps pushing,
This much's been seen.
The earth within-
It sings and moans.
The time has come
To know its currents.

Softness

There isn't a smile that wants to appear on her withered face: that much is real clear.
On mission to win her battle of might. Her manners expose the toughness inside.
Perhaps it is past that caused all the fright. Or what's to become if compassion stands up.
Whatever the reason might be isn't clear, but it isn't the meat of the issue either.
The sadness spreads out like sun rays in sky. It's really ok to lay that burden way down.
Presenting the beauty buried by fury of making a story from ground up.
The chips might fall down and scatter around, yet it's really ok to simply sit down
And wash all the anger and drown the danger that only exists in her mind's jaded eye.
The smile may appear on her face held so dear by many of those whom, humbly, she touched.
There is always a chance that her toughness will melt and wash the sorrow brought on by world's domineering power.
So she can become the softness inside without the need to stand tall and fist fight.

Welcome!

He is here! He is here! All the town is enthralled.
Even mountains above us threw a party in due course.
Sunshine, too, appeared brighter on the morning of the feast.
Because all of nature's beauty dressed on up and brushed its teeth.

He is here! He is here! All the hands are up in joy.
Even strangers have decided to make ice cream for the boy.
The onlookers were looking, mesmerized by newborn's sight.
He is small but he is mighty, not unlike his future life.

He is here! He is here! All the feet are tapping floor.
Even cats and dogs and spiders moved in sync, unlike before.
Her heart stretched to further limits while his oozed newfound love.
It's that kind of an occurrence. It just touches to the core.

He is here! He is here! The new life tore down a door.
And it's time for us to marvel at what lies ahead in store.

My Sense

It's not that I have any answers.
It's not that I know what will work.
It's just that I keep asking questions
To gain some clarity is all.

The actions spring of misinformation.
The future seems to hold no joy.
The road up might be amusing.
It's doubtful that it's first choice.

It's not that I can see the future.
It's not that I can speak the truth.
It's just that I can sense the odor
Of pain and suffering unfold.

Unleashed

I don't care that I am tired, or that I can't perform what's expected in this world of false pride and flaky joy. He is living somewhere out there which I happen to enjoy but I need to be communicative despite the empty lull. All keep running in small circles like they've never seen the track. It appears new as always through the sleepy mind and eyes. And I cannot keep on living in this state of dread and pain. My poor heart and my dead ears can no longer hold up the front. I would like to be a cloud that keeps hovering above and can see the road clearly laid out in front. And I beg for him to enter into space I am trying to form. All the help that is available, I am happy to welcome. Asking guidance to appear on very clear terms. There is no time for guessing, as this life is rather short. I will walk away uninjured, for there is no turning back. It is time the yellow brick road turned to golden magic ride. I will sit there and implode to ensure an ample burning has made itself ready to throw its false wisdom to the sky. May I become alive.

Just Begun

I don't know what I know, and I know I don't know. I just hope I can go where the rivers only flow and the fish can fly. And the boat's easy float and the fear of the unknown with the likelihood of tow in the current to what's right. Yet the road is no go and the gate is still kept closed while the tapping of hurt toes doesn't know to stop. I don't know why the moan keeps on coming from this corner of the lone and the cone in shape of stone of a shiny kind. And the ship is yet to throw its full sail and to drone like the one I might have heard once upon a time. I can only hold the rope with its end tied to the known and have courage to let go and reach for the stars. Mighty roots might have been grown into deep and hardened soil that needs something great on loan to shake off the dust. Until then, the only load is the memory of code that's been etched into the bone and continues to slow the steady progress of the soul that cannot be stopped. And I don't know what I don't know. And I don't know what I do know. And the only truth I know is that I'm far from finish line. I can only hope to go with the rhythms and the flow of the great unknown known as my life. So I tear off the clothes and expose what's not been shown to the greatest manifesto left for me to write. May I go with the flow and be flexible as dough that's been waiting to be molded into perfectly rolled shape of bright yellow sun. It might read a little slow and appear slightly boring but there's little to be shown, for my life has not yet known that it's capable to throw and generate great fun. Yes, it has only just begun. 

It's OK

It's ok, my little baby. It's ok, my dear one.
It will only get better. Just allow it to happen. You are yet to take the flight. 

It's ok, my little honey. It's ok, my dear one.
Life can only get much better. I've already seen it happen. You're groomed to fly so far.

I will hold you and protect you. I will fuel you and embrace you. Just be willing to accept me. I am here as your guide.

You have met me as a baby. You have grown into a lady. All the world's for your taking. Just see that it is such.

There is no need to worry. And there isn't room to hurry. All can happen in a fury. You will be just fine.

It's ok, my tiny creature. It's ok, my lovely one.
I am here to support you. I am here to console you. Just accept me as your teacher. You will know life. 

Let me hold you, my dear child. Let me cure you, my darling girl. Let me steer you toward the future. You have only just begun.

It's ok, my little baby. It's ok, my dear one.
It will only get much better. Just allow it to happen. You are soon to take that flight.

Night Time

The mosquitoes come out when the humans go in. When humidity is rampant and the air's just too thick. I might call it an annoyance, because breathing is obscured. Yet those other little monsters seem to cherish it full force. It is not my or your making that variety is key. What is good for you is unspeakable to me. And the creative winds of freedom keep on rolling in and through. And there isn't a beginning to any thing or me or you. Just to stand and feel the magic of a night's still and rich life. As the man on stage is singing to his most loved guitar. Many things today appeared in a flash of fallen star. Disharmoniously perfect, though they really fool the mind. I don't know where it's all going, not these words, not this life. Yet I do enjoy the vastness and the abyss of the now. And the pen, it keeps on moving, as the clock has stuck thirteen. It's the eighth day that's awaiting to be seen and broken in. And the man has stopped creating, and the stars are shining bright. And the words have changed location, from the bedroom to the light. I will say good bye to fury that has burned a hole so deep. It is time to change the story, because all of it's a dream. 



And I'd rather be.....