feather

most days I’m a feather clinging to the wing of a multicolored bird
quivering from the wind, but always returning to the place where I belong
blending and fading with the soft abyss of surrounding comfort, I wait.

some days I’m the multicolored bird piercing the sky
flying with the wind, at such a height that makes my colors melt
into one single, perfect hue, blending into the welcome air, I soar.

but today I am the sky, an expanse filled with possibility, with fear
propelling the wind, but quivering and melting, fading and flying
I don’t leave or return because I’m already here, so I breathe.

to rise

those rows of roses
all sowed just so, sewed
with thread, they were tread
in a path just so

and we ambled through as anglers
searching madly, blindly
through the murk, the dark
in a sea, we couldn’t see

we sang songs in our blindness
forcing fallacy filled fantasies
and what we read in the dark turned red
like those roses

but thankfully with care
we came up for air

above it all,
we rose

mantra

“you are powerful beyond beyond measure”

my yoga teacher whispered into the expanse of sweaty bodies, all twisted and teetering and balancing on a single leg that had gone numb minutes ago

“you have a special light that shines”

she proclaimed as we bent and twisted and tried to breathe like darth vader while emptying our minds and simultaneously channeling inner peace and oneness with the earth

“you are enough”

we inhaled, we exhaled
and suddenly, we believed her

Reminder

Sometimes I feel the weight of everything directly upon me,
but I mean, in a good way.

Not in a way that suppresses or brings anxiety aloft.
In a way that frees.

When I’m driving at night and the streets are full of cars
but everyone is reduced to two lights
and I ask myself where I’m truly going
and the stars form a welcome blanket overhead
guiding me and everyone, all of our lights,
along our individual journeys, I feel it.

And it suddenly becomes so apparent
that our individual journeys
are so far from that.

The depth of this huge, gigantic world rests
upon all of us, peacefully and meaningfully.
It grasps onto our shoulders,
and urges us not to forget that it’s there.

Mind Games

I wish I could be introspective every single day
I dream of molding thoughts abstract, like artwork out of clay
Construct idealic phrase so fast, leave audiences beaming
Pen existential metaphors, of which no ones knows the meaning
I wish my mind was free to mull over eloquently structured phrase
I would write down all my profound thoughts and not run out for days
How nice to conjecture Kafkaesque verse with flair and frequency
It’s just a bit hard when my mind is filled with thoughts like, “Gee, I have to pee.”