“It’s the twisting of the knife that matters most, that’s what gets them…the twist of the knife.
But please, please fill your desperate thirst for the dream with no consideration of ones around you. It is, in all, about you and nothing else.
Oh! To be a true artist; opportune blessings indeed!
To lose mind and self for artistry is a true gift of human genius and indulgence. Continue on this path of discovery and see where the light takes you.
The cold of an impenetrable wall or vast sky of creativity? We shall not know until we try.”
“It’s the twisting of the knife that matters most, that’s what gets them…the twist of the knife. But please, please fulfill your desperate thirst for the dream with no consideration of ones around you because it is, in all, about you and nothing else. Oh! To be a true artist; opportunity blessings indeed! To lose mind and self for artistry is the true gift of human genius and indulgence! Continue on this path of discovery and see where the light takes you. The cold of the impenetrable wall or vast creativity? We shall not know until we try.”
The dreamers are the ones
gives in to the next
The lovers are the ones
touch takes them high
The doers are the ones
foundations for the journey
The believers are the ones
finding solace in unknowing
the belief to have solace
creates the strong ground to stand
the love to walk the sky
my dream to breathe in
releasing the will
Many a night I’ve punished myself for not reaching the self inflicted deadline I create. I’ve imagined coming home from a 9 or 10 hour day, sitting at my table with a nice tumbler of whiskey in hand and letting the words go! Oh! The stories I’ve thought of in my mind! An endless pool of ideas to fall into, coming to surface small bubbles of…….nothing. There was a long period of time when I had forgotten my love for writing, sweeping it under the rug like unwanted dust, too lazy to address. It piled up of course, I itched to let it out and share my words with others. I was a huge hoarder of my writing for so long that I got used to living amongst the ideas, the piles, the mountains of things in my own mind, at times suffocating me senseless, in turn making for a not so pretty rant of emotion, unbeknownst to whomever was on the receiving end.
My 15 year old son was a big influence of me starting this blog. I’m grateful to that young man for creating his own space in this life. I push him to share himself with the world, why was I hiding? The critical fear can be paralyzing. So I tread softly, until my steps become strong and unwavering. I’m getting used to giving myself deadlines or yet…just letting it come as it may. There are times when I walk by my laptop not meaning to write but sit down anyway, and create something beautiful out of nothing. That’s when I come alive. In those moments the truth is apparent, so raw and real, words flow without pressure. I revel in those moments. Wasted days or wasted nights? There aren’t any. The time you take to sit, run, jump or play towards what matters most to you is never time wasted. What a way to live.
One two three
steps along the bridge
The wind whips
strands of hair
Looking ahead my mother grasps the rope
she turns a quick smile
Fear of falling
blown away with a breeze
fingers tight to keep balance
and an endless below
immersed in a sea of white
no longer above but surrounding
this is what it feels like
I know a lot of people. At times it surprises me what I’m learning from who I see on a daily basis. I’ve been in a retrospective state a lot lately, which magnifies what these people show me even more. We all tend to get a bit self-centered thinking of what we’re going through. The constant restriction I put on my potential can at times be hard for myself alone to think about.
Going to work everyday at a job that is not my calling by any means, is hard as well. This is when my mind comes to life! It spins and weaves, leaving me antsy with anticipation to write. I find bits of time to sneak an idea down. Some of my best poems have come from sitting at my desk, emotions high! Or walking home from my short train commute, inspiration comes from every where.
But I digress, these two thoughts are connected more than you think. As I go about my day, my mood fluctuates between frustration and contentment for what is now. I tend to struggle with being grateful to have a job at all verses living out my true purpose to be happy, where’s the balance? I find myself asking. This can be prompted by the moods around me of course. In that self-centered state, I have to remind myself that the ones around me sacrifice all day for what they do, whether they want to be here or not. Everyone dreams, it’s the brave that seek to fulfill them even in the slightest way, without fear of failure or the constant pull of something greater.
I’m uplifted by the few that bring their light with them everyday. Doused by the ones that choose not to do so. I do my best to hold positive light out and around me but I too am human and have to remind myself that I come to work for a reason. It’s not to “do” what I’m paid for necessarily, but to spread an idea. An idea that you can create and build your dream, brick by heavy ass brick. No matter how old you are or where you THINK you are in your life, that is light in itself. It takes time.
They’ve taught me patience. They’ve taught me to keep living my purpose and that it’s not as clear as I may think it is. Hmmmm, patience.