art, death, introspection, pain, philosophy, Poetry, spirituality

Secret Heart

Reality waves my soul
With pushing force
And strangles whole
I am drowning silver
Like lead falls so deep
I am calm and quiver
In languished, quiet sleep
But where I go
I follow
And in my secret heart
Am never hollow
Where I go
I follow
I burn in water
And in my secret heart
Can never be swallowed

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art, introspection, philosophy, Poetry, Uncategorized

Small

I am not omniscient in my story
Not the author with all the words
Just a player in this journey
Just one chapter quietly heard

I do not make every mark
Have not witnessed each new scene
I weave around within my part
Abide within this grander dream

I like to think I know it all
And see throughout these several spheres
But the only world I can recall
Is what I glimpse and words I hear

And when I see that I am small
I see the cogs that interact
I know in times I rise or fall
Are remnants of a lace intact

art, introspection, nature, philosophy, Poetry, spirituality, Uncategorized

Quiet I’ve Found

It is the sound of a quiet room
And graphite in spiral-bound
It is the crick of the clock
As the seconds turn around
It is the fervent hum of air
Lightly rowing in the vent
It is the window whispers
Of crickets in their tents
It is leather on my chair
That cracks when I shift
It is light through my hair
As the lamp lights my grip
Of graphite in spiral bound
It strokes, bends, and slips
The shapes are like soft sounds
That bend in my lips
The feelings are like heavy pounds
That from my heart drip
And fill in this quiet I’ve found
As I silently sit

art, introspection, pain, philosophy, Poetry, spirituality

Naive Wishes

Paint me with naive wishes 

They are the only ones worth having 

Haven’t learned fear 

Haven’t known failure 

Still have the time to prove 

Paint me with with naive hope 

That has every reason to go on forever 

Doesn’t need to be realistic

Doesn’t feel pressured to be responsible 

Young enough to know no limits

Paint me with naive love 

That blooms in every young soul 

Unabashed 

Unbridled 

Unflinching 

In the face of every sad love song

art, introspection, philosophy, Poetry, spirituality, Uncategorized

The Dreaming Age

Sometimes something special reminds me what it’s like to dream again. And it’s like this hidden emotion that gets forgotten until something lights it up. And I see it as clearly as I did when I was younger, and simpler, and when things were much more magical. And it overcomes me. I don’t have to work for it. The dream just comes back to me. And that is more poetic to me than anything I can explain.

I think those kinds of dreams happen in that intricate time when we are changing from children into adults. I think that at some special youthful interval we get a chance to be overwhelmingly complex and fearlessly hopeful. I would dream so deeply then. My dreams tend to be more technical now, and less beautiful, and less like dreams and more like goals. Without the magic and without the hope of undamaged youth. But sometimes I hear a special song and it takes me back, and I feel more like myself than ever before.

art, introspection, philosophy, photography, Poetry, spirituality, Uncategorized

Originally Me

Birthed
I began
My life ran
The light was on
I existed in the world
It all meant nothing back then
I wish it was still that way
But I am entangled with this built race
And now I don’t remember where I came from
Wishing I could know what it means to be me,
without you

Art Credit: Darian R. Stanovich

Poetry, Uncategorized

Lost and Looking

The clock has struck a chord
And much too late it rings
For Time I can’t afford
Or walk amid the spring
I gaze for royal blush
To cast a golden ray
And pause for calling thrush
To lead along the way
If serendipity
Has need of place to sleep
Then let her rest with me
With me the blessings keep

She feels the constant yearning in the wait
Those wishes cause the heart to grow too faint