Nothing to win.Nothing left to lose.It’s time for that vice of yours break.Body always bruised,how ever will the spirit soar? Back where I left offbefore the pursuit,a half-bloomed flower, merely on my waypurely becoming myself.And in that season before incubation,clamped, … Continue reading
Most pressing question of the early eve, is what hill will we attempt? Giddy with speed and downhill momentum anyone will do especially when typically on these November eves we would be bundled indoors dreaming of downhill thrills like these. … Continue reading
Yesterday I was clever, so I wanted to change the world. Today I am wise, so I am changing myself. – Rumi Take courage, I have overcome the world in the mist of unsettledness in others.Despite the ferocity,hard-pressed upon its … Continue reading
On finding my why. A key practice for fulfillment is to continue asking yourself why? Again and again, until you arrive to the root of it all…what gives you the juju to plug away? Only then, can you decide and presume … Continue reading
These eyes aren’t the only things soaring with delight; Popolina’s entire being seems to be. I named her Popolina, she looks like one to me. If we only had a sliver of her delight, if only we remembered we were … Continue reading
You belong among the wildflowers; you belong somewhere free.You were cordially invited from another saintly eve than the one you have believed.You were born for times such as these.
Never has there been such a time,to let loose into an impression of elation.Albeit it may arrive only after a kind of necessary seasonal disappearance.It’s the ultimate journey of the hero,back into the realm of choice, a cyclical existence for … Continue reading
The onethat gasps in delight at your sight.the onethat makes you gasp in delight while in your sightyou know the one,whether you feel it in your dreams makes no differenceeven when you reach the altar of the darkened starif you … Continue reading
She’s still at it. Pecking away to the tune of her own brilliance. Still can’t figure out, a week into it, if she’s vocal about something or simply singing to her own melody and worshipping no one or anything other … Continue reading
Most feathered friends have taken off in flocks heading south by now. I read this poem and thought of them…wish I were in their feathers right about now, weary, tender and happy to be soaring with friends sans regrets to … Continue reading
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