Your true color is dark gray, muddy, half devoid of substance as if it couldn’t be enough. Your halo is gray and tilted to one side and I saw cracks in your demeanor. For a while I looked at myself and saw some of you reflected as I slowly turned light gray from a pure white. Your color is dark gray, beautiful, but grimy and it brings me down and I wonder what it must feel like to carry that weight with you of pouring out uncontrollably as you hold on to fragments from when you fell to the floor and shattered. I am an act of self-love, in constant motion, and ever so willing to give the little pieces of light that I hold in my hands, but I can’t share that light if all you’ll do is obscure my path.
Finally satiated with the sweet wine of your vineyards, I sleep well tonight for yesterday I was vividly aware of the walls around me and the flesh on my bones. Today I just needed to escape the cage that is my body into an oblivion of desire.
An abstract thought of circular and staggered indicators,
A clock ticking away moments in space,
We are led in symbols of infinity with looped pathways,
Everything moves at the correct pace.
It’s all a matter of consequence. This consequential operation determines who you will be minutes from now, tomorrow, or three years from today. We build these schedules of habits around us and bow down to them—who could have imagined that something so abstract like that would become our master, our God. Breaking the chains that hold on to our minds can only occur when something throws us out of orbit, but we’re so easily engrossed in the gravitational pull of heartbreaking habits that who knows if we’ll have the strength to release ourselves—to break the contingency. There are few with the knowledge of what it takes to break and knowledge is power, so will they break or build that which enslaves the rest?
So ethereal, the way the water pools into my cupped hands; its velvety caress and the cacophony of unpatterned rhythm lure me in to a tantric state. The being becomes what it surrounds itself with, the enlightenment comes from acceptance and awareness of this magical world around us. I am on a higher plane and outer space can be so refreshing.
It was an Iowa spring that made me love sunrises and cloudy days. It was in the coolness of raindrops that fell upon my face and in the freshness of petrichor in the air that I awoke spiritually.
Maybe I get a little antsy when things get tough. I clean my ambiance to refresh my aching muscles, especially the heart. Maybe I just want someone to hold my hand, look into my eyes and tell me that there’s company in the mess—the achy mess.