Special thanks to Owen and Radiant health for sharing. Namaste!
Monthly Archives: April 2014
Sweet dreams
She was sick and there was no use denying.
If she didn’t find aid, she was surely dying.
Time would be wasted sitting around crying.
Salvation depended upon no more lying.
The demons were there and were very real.
She knew precisely what they hoped to steal.
There were gaping wounds that needed to heal.
To find a heart of peace and mind that was still.
The journey cleanses; with smoke and fire.
Searching for truth, never to tire.
Witness birth, construct the pyre.
Live the love, kill the desire.
365 days in a sanitary quiescence.
An equinox season of evanescence.
A dawn of dark obsolescence,
necessitating recuperative convalescence.
Embrace the respite with out an air of despair,
Every traveler eventually passes through there.
Following the moon on a triple dog dare,
chasing the planets to their horizon lair.
Dusk indeed will lead to midnight,
The dark; a seed evolves into fright.
Lest she is freed to pursue what is right,
Bleeding alive; fooled by new daylight.
Each night collides as super novae collapse.
Leery each morning as the sunrise entraps.
Another day the universe warily wraps
opportunity in a shroud.
No refunds
Slumber pursues me doggedly; advances unrequited
I flee from it persistently, ironically in spite of
the fact I’d love nothing more than to feel it’s warm embrace,
release the day, let go of worry, find a quiet place.
There are not enough hours in the days
to navigate this energetic maze
a minefield of ticking time bombs surround you
let down your guard and the enemy will ground you.
Sleep when you die, there’s business to sort.
Be the hunter or wind up the sport.
Trading your consciousness for insanity,
all the while wholly aware of the inanity.
Insomniatic calamity.
To be afraid of the dark.
Talking to myself is easy
The conversation flowed as expected.
Tit for tat, this for that, no objections.
No topic taboo; religion or politics, and sometimes the meta.
The universe, no; multiverses, what was served for breakfast.
Ultimate freedom of speech. Deliberation, emancipation.
Flying solo leaves little room for error. Or great spaces for terror.
Scant disagreement, and sometimes solitary chaos.
The hermit does not complain.
The war within intrigues to the end.
Everything else seems mundane.
The Gypsy Tells It 