It’s in the leaves of the dormilonas, that concept of sensitivity, that we try to skirt so as not to touch and disturb the peace of the night fog on cool leaves. I try to lightly tap them as if I were stroking pools of water so softly so as to not disturb the surface tension. So lightly like tiny mosquitoes soon to become part of a sensitive web of food that allows the flora and fauna to keep cycling through the carefully selected genes in nature. All is so sensitive and perfectly still as it vibrates atomically to frequencies indistinguishable to human ears. May the choices I make remain aware of the softness of this Earth and its inhabitants and may I take care of all in my travels as a world/life explorer.
They look at you, knowing you, giving you the space to grow. They let you explore all the different terrains that intrigue you, all the while knowing that their home is the one you’ll return to. The focus is on the long game and the creation of a nation between your two warrior tribes—you two against the world. The story is in their eyes as they look at you knowingly and they recognize that you are thine.
Glistening blues and nude hues inspired by soft pigments easily flowing on paper forge an image in the mind, one of smooth sensuality flowing through the body sweetly. Enter atoms in creative hands and pass through spaces of darkness and light unseen to the naked eye. Inhale the aromatic fumes like a distant memory of joy returning to your atmosphere—a fog swallows you whole then lifts you up.
May we raise our sons and daughters to only speak words that they feel within. Too often life is perceived as a series of actions in a drama and so people ignore the fact that those around them are human, not paid actors. May my daughter grow up in a world where she feels free to speak or write her truths without fear of being perceived as less than. May all around her recognize her awareness of life and respect her humanity. May my son learn the importance of listening in a society where all men do is speak. Where too many men speak incalculable volumes at decibels loud enough for rock concerts, may my son grow to also listen and speak when he finds something truly worth saying. May our children reflect upon their actions and lead lives of consideration for those surrounding them so that perhaps one day hearts will mend, and souls will fill to the brim with happiness.
It isn’t an easy world when it comes to the manifestation of love. You are right to open yourself to the pleasant vibrations made by the strings of Cupid’s bow, but take heed and be careful… not all doors are ready to open. Not all shells house perfect pearls. So manifest your love and dreams, all the while treading carefully through the thorny brambles of forests recently burned. Not all who want to love are ready for a never ending ecstasy blessed by the great Aphrodite. Listen to your goddesses and let patience and clarity guide you through the burning forest and into wildflower meadows by the sea. All that you seek is already there ready, waiting for you.
May these brown eyes melt in sun
Melt down to pools of gold
The treasure they seek
Hidden in this vessel’s hold.
And may they in oceans sink
Like shipwrecks close to shore
Always to be seen
And soon to become lore.
Do you really think that a grown woman like me needs someone like you to be “the big man of my life?” My dear, you are sorely mistaken. I was splitting the Earth to pave the road to my progression long before you spewed that smoke through your lips. I was building the pieces of myself much before you were calling yourself a man. You have no idea of the hells that I’ve traveled to get to this point. Don’t forget, this life already taught me to never trust a man.