Stuck

Soft as the wind,
The lights blow through empty space.

Swirling towards the shore of weighty whites, and wholesome might.

Bellowing with the beast a voice drifts along.

"I take a price, for thrice the evening has bested a good soul. But free is my endless flight."

Quiet is the following and trailing behind is another we can not see. For when sense is good and proper, no mind can find peace.

A place of pieces fit into beauty. May the wind find rest on yet another shore and drift not into silence but into the heart of the earth to turn and sit and morph into more or less the perfect thing.

Me oh...

What a time to wake again,
taking with me my old friend.

What is real, I have to think. Stop, no, yes.
I am here, this is real.

Words slink through my head. Melting slowly into the folds of my mind, cold like the dripping Popsicles of summers gone.

Vision is bent and bright and new, flickering images focus into reality and I blink faster as if I can tune into reality.

Hopeless begins to take its grip and my vision again begins to vibrate, thoughts come and go like waves, my eyes loll around attempting to stay centered.

For but a moment fear grips my chest, hot with panic I scream internally as reality suddenly cracks and a splinters, and begins the fall.

Pulled down fast, impossibly fast. Like gravity, no, faster. Like a force stronger than anything I dare imagine. Bent and twisted, laws of nature no longer exist and I feel my body stretched out longer and longer. I am a thin rope of matter flying through a dark void into an even darker rumbling pit of energy, hungry, mindless, energy.

I decide to let go, what is the worst that could...

SNAP

I sit, still, quiet, unblinking. The light of the room fades to normal as if recovering from a sudden flash of a camera. Normality seems to have arrived in the flick of a thought.

Testing the waters I blink again and return my focus to the seemingly restored world around me. Nobody seems to have noticed my lapse of sanity, my shuffling of reality...

Back to work I suppose.

Moments

Pinpoints of time pushed into the walls of my soul. Like a thumbtack holding a worn and torn scrap of paper to a telephone pole. The message is long forgotten, a ghost of a word of word of a thought of a spark of inspiration.
 Points so small the markings they leave behind are nearly erased and swept into the sea of other lost moments.

A strangers smile as you pass them on a sidewalk. The slight smell of the sea on her skin as she takes the empty seat next to you. The familiar sound of a wheel turning to an inevitable stop. The metallic hint of blood running down your throat.
Between the highest peaks of excitement and ecstasy, and the lowest trenches of confusion and chaotic desperation. Somewhere within, right in the middle, lie these small insignificant moments.


Though we may choose to define ourselves on the big moments, we may choose to parade them around,  to feel accomplished, awe inspired, giddy with glee. Other times there feels as if the choice is thrust upon us, shadowed with feelings deeper than our own understanding.
Despite this, all this, the moments of the between, the pin pricks of time forgotten. These moments are the real foundation, the real experience, the real definition of life. Next time you are sitting waiting for the bus, set aside your highs and lows. Power off your device and close your eyes. Let time slip away, allow life to flow forth, through, to writhe within you.

Let the moments be moments and time be time. We are not simply a collection of experience, we just could be maybe, if you allow it...

 We could just BE

Let it become

Let it become, like the rain.
Let it fall, and flow again.

Like a glass marble, the mind reflects the world around it.
Cutting ribbons of thought, from spools of knowledge.
Colors reflected from world's around .

Collectively it is now...
Unorganized and unwound, frayed at the edges and tossed to the side.

This is a new age of thought, a dawn of reflection turned inward.
The future is revealed within.

Dare to challenge, to change, to feel.
To take apart and reject what is real.
For what is lost is always found, when mirrors are but turned around.

Drawing in the dark

In a dark room, drifting off into places unseen. With tools of life in hand I begin to work, fingers led across blank pages by forces unseen. Feverishly scratching away, a dark mass is forming just beyond my line of sight. Pushing forward till I am told without words to stop. I reveal the unseen with a burst of light, and before my eyes stands the formless, night loving, figure.

Let's get Frank

Expose yourself, strip away the plastic and let the sun shine down on your beautiful new self.
Let the expressions of your former life melt in the radiant light of the now.
Time burns a hole in the wrist of those who try to capture it's essence.
Live loose, laugh free, love who you are and who you used to be. Now come, dance away the dark with me.

Hands will Shape, Hearts will Shake

Icy like the sweat that wakes me from my dreams,
Salty like skin pushed under by the tides,
Cracked like the play dough left out and forgotten.

Hanging on to things that don't exist has left me exhausted.
I push through the shell of who I once was,
Pieces of self fall to the earth and crumble like the dust I am.

Organic and old, ordinary and original.
This isn't what you think,
Your thoughts far from this, far from us, further than we could ever have imagined.

Hot like the days I'll never forget, lost in the melting pot of mindfulness.
Sweet like the beauty that was held beyond reason, foolish was I.
Malleable like the future we hold, these hands will shape us all.