As above, so below

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Even looking at the ground I see bits of the universe
With its constellations strewn by me feet, reflecting, interpreting and expressing what they see above.
And even still my eyes see anomalies and exceptions to the rule.
Am I a mirror of something more than myself?
Am I part of the uniform
Or am I an anomaly?

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Mist

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The mist was thick, hazy and encompassing.
Little could be seen and plenty unknown.
The great void lay beyond and although I could not see it, it could be sensed.
In the dense haze at the world’s edge I realized I forgot much,
perhaps too much.
Such is the toll for living choices
And even though there were four main lights that night,
All it took was one to show me that I’m still afraid…

Morning ocean musings

There I stood, still in the shadow of all that was man and human, before the sun could warm itself, looking out at an ocean – swelling like a heart full of love;
hoping that something bigger, something more than what I had become would rise out of its waters to comfort me
but all I felt was the sea spit in my face as it broke its answer over the edge
And as I stood I wondered if there was a crustacean or clown fish on the floor of this swelling heart that wondered, hoped and felt the same as I…

Mount Ego

It took me four years just to muster up the courage to meet the foot of the mountain.

Its vastness was intimidating and I thought it impossible to conquer.

I have trekked and hiked up large hills and mountains before,

each bringing its struggles and there were times I thought I could no longer endure

yet here I am.

Those paled in comparison to this.

Two years and still I’m climbing, hiking and struggling

yet progress has been made.

The higher I get the harder it is for me to breathe and I lose sight.

My legs ache, heart sore and home nowhere.

It has been so long, I am forgetting where and what home is,

yet still I continue.

Home is made each night on the side of the mountain at varying altitudes.

The cold is so bitter that I wish to become ice

just so I don’t have to feel the difference.

In the dead of night when light, wind and temperature work against me

I find myself unable to sleep.

So I reminisce.

I think back to how it was before the journey.

The mountain I knew was always there, I just never bothered to conquer it.

As I reminisce I feel a vortex in my chest, a black hole, an unplugged drain

swallowing the bubbles in the bath and it makes me feel seven years old again

and I am being scolded.

On this mountain there is no double-bunk-blanket-fort to go hide inside, cry and pity myself.

The sun eventually rises but it does little for the icy cold and bitterness on the tip of my tounge

until I decide I am up and about, moving and burning.

Still I am here.

I am so sure that the summit is close, but I will never be certain till I arrive.

What I am certain of is the higher I climb the more I see

and the more I see, the less there is of me.

I am a speck on Mount Ego.

The mountain is vast yet the horizons stretch further and vaster than any mountain

and I question “why?”

The answer simply is that there is more to existence than just you and I and these mountains and hills we traverse

and to truly comprehend this, one has to journey step by step,

higher altitude to higher altitude

to witness that which we are merely a speck a part of.

Perhaps the summit is not my immediate goal,

perhaps the steadily broadening view is what I need

to make order out of this chaos.

Tis the season…

I was asked what I would like for Christmas.
I shrugged my shoulders in silence, but my heart confessed loudly:

I want to share an electric night-time kiss
and see it shimmy on the water’s surface.
I want to feel the pull of her gaze on my eyes in a full room,
yet she is the only one I see.
I want to feel the spark of that touch that sets off every landmine under my skin
As if I were Braille and her fingertips read exactly the way I feel.
I want to see her thoughts in pictures
so I can decorate my mind’s wall with frames of her.
I want to lock hands like lips
and speak pieces of ourselves,
filling each other like red balloons
purposely let go by the hand of a child that knows only how to love.
I want to feel a delicate hand over the humming-bird beneath my chest,
that somehow calms me, yet causes the beating wings to beat even harder
yearning for escape
and it does.
I want to open the ribs of my cage and let the choruses of starlings sing,
just so the world around me can hear what love really sounds like.
I want that sound to infect others
like I was an un-zombie, kissing bits of humanity back into you.
And all this I want for everyone.

My mouth then opened and I replied:
“I would like a notebook to scribble down my thoughts.”

Wishing all the followers and occasional readers the safest and merriest of festivities as the year draws to an end. The bestest of wishes for you all.

Merriest Christmas (or however you like to celebrate the last days of the year)

The Observing Vessel

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Shine

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This weekend I dived into fists full of dirt and wind.
When I opened them I sensed glistening flecks of gold.
When I opened my eyes I realized I was one of them.
We all spoke,
blowing away more of the dirt.
The words spilt like water,
washing over us,
running down our golden bodies
And as dawn broke, we sat in the hands of the lake.
The light caught us and we all shone.