Don’t you care what people say…
You can leave your thoughts at the door.
The raindrops fall in a single line on the floor.
So, finish chasing rainboys after the storm.
Keep looking to the clouds
They’ll tell you how hard it will pour
On your perfect face and down your neck bones.
No rain shower is like the next
And you keep looking forward to variety
But remember that each rain is…
Similarly composed of something watery.
Let the wind take you and engulf you in its feathery kiss. Let the sun extract out of you the pieces of your souls that need to evaporate. Watch the rain cool your eyes with its mist as you learn to value the earth below you. Let the earth hold you and let you take root. It is in the letting go that you are so lovingly held.
It’s doubtful that they ever knew how inside of you trickled a tiny stream of phrases promising without delivery an action that never arrived. It’s dubious that they ever imagined that the tiny rivulet would become secret floodwaters within you that one day would drown out all ideas pertaining to them as the surge broke down the wooden posts only half-blocking their phrases from the machines within your head that processed the wood into truth. Little did they all know that within you were compartmentalizations of them that became a burden too heavy to hear by the cabinets inside of you that held their weight. Shocked will they be when the contents fall to the floor and the flood eroded the wooden structure of the homes they built within you with your permission. Fortunate will you be when all that is broken is washed away leaving you with a clean slate to build your own walls.
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.
Waves slowly sweep me in, solidifying me into rock. With each successive crash I am built larger until eventually what will be left of me is a mountain underneath the sea.
Barefoot amidst the movement of lapping, cold waves—a gentle soul walks onward into the ocean. Mangrove branches loop out from the water and marine alluvium soils. Tiny fish grow within the intertidal zone, protected by the plants and disrupted by her calm feet digging into the sand. Hair wild amidst the cool sun rays softly kissing each eye into a deeper caramel hue. The water against her strong ankles as low pools fill and recede into the Earth. Gusts pick up cooling a body flowing in tandem with the ocean waves as the heart connects to the soul of the ocean.
Asteroids are falling into my atmosphere, their burning traces, crystal prisms.
They dig deep into my chest, opening spaces where perhaps leaves will grow after we sow this burned soil.
Flutters of color like butterfly wings whispering pieces of song that sirens can nice upon a time would sing.
Maybe these leaves will be blown to the water when the gusts pick up as none of this matters.