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The silence of soft falling snow was the only silence that truly ever kept quiet.
It was transcendent beauty
A breath of life in the midst of all things.
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Life was a wave carrying her vessel
It felt the rhythm of a peaceful madness that coexisted in harmony
The depths of the sea could be felt in her soul releasing the pressure she felt to make sense of it all
The sea was a serenade of acceptance for the unknown
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Sunflower
We were magic
There was sadness painted on our skin that sunshine turned to art
We were poetry
There was silence and laughter writing our story and we screamed it from the mountain tops
We were wildflowers
There was roots that kept us thriving through havoc and we bloomed fierce
We were sunsets
There was goodbye and stars that never left the sky
We were kindred
There was fragments of our existence embedded in our being
We were us
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Dreams tell our stories
Shining light into the depths of our dark
They bring memory to life and add words to silence when thought is all there is to speak
Dreams dance to stillness
They break mirrors of frozen time casting pictures of our life and making sense of love and pain in ways we have yet to understand
Dreams are our stories
They tell us where we’ve been and where we’ve yet to go
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There was lonely and there was lost
Not quite the same
Not quite different
There was comfort in being alone and sadness in that of being lonesome
There was feeling lost and grieving loss, a puzzle to the mind and a rhythm of the heart
These things make me, they at times break me yet I somehow stay whole
They were pieces of parts of me that tell a story and write it more
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You were her shelter amidst the storm
Arms that felt like walls fiercely protecting her from havoc
The wind howled and the bitter cold could be felt at her toes, but she was safe
It was the storm of a lifetime, at least she thought
And as it passed she began to rebuild, flowers grew where they once had bloomed and she could breath
She knew there would be another storm
It was the cycle of life
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Golden sun caressed my back
I lay there, grounding my lost soul, fighting fear, drowning out thoughts , dreaming of answers.
I wanted bliss, I craved something deeper, something powerful and present. Something that unleashed the me I thought I had found.
The song, the sun, the answer.
Maybe I was wrong to make you right. You had to be the answer.
We were the perfect storm.
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I still remember those sunsets
In winter, they were never long enough
June left it’s warmth in window beams that warmed the tile their summer feet grazed over as they ran through the house
The smell of lavender and old wood brought life to our youth and the way the fire smelled swarmed by life
It was a storybook
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Who you are is only a fraction of who you’re yet to become
When life stands still for a moment it’s not always easy to see just where you are, from where you’ve been
If you look back , you are not truly lost , you are serving your soul some purpose, for its roots planted some time ago , creating a place for you to grow
Journeys include stagnancy with intention for time, a phase of your growth that offers opportunity for acknowledgment , and reckoning
It is this cycle of change that we often fear most . It is messy , and beautiful , but most importantly , you
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The journey of your stranger
Somewhere between half full and empty lies the soul of our stranger .
It’s presence shadowed, embedded into our being.
It greets us fiercely, mistakenly seen as a weakened version of who we were once to be .
A wild one , leading you to the unknown depths of our existence . Creating its path you’ve yet to follow .
Emerging , it grabs you by the hand, not to lead not follow, but rather to embark.
Your kindred. Beautifully created through mystery and madness, it’s you.
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It may quite possibly be euphoria , that moment you find yourself in a place , so present and in tune with a piece of you that you thought had left .
Soul awakening magic , like summer kissing a dark and wintered forest for the first time each season.
Finding your peace after harboring your sorrow. Embracing you , like a long lost love you have come back to find.
You are no longer the site of wreckage , you are the ship that through it all didn’t ever fully sink.
What is lost can always be found.
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Barefoot and goosebumps up my body , I sit here on my floor , grateful for the heat, the security , the love, haven.
I stare grief in the eye like a long lost sabotage , a mountain I never finished climbing.
It’s gains are my weaknesses. It’s triumphs are my failures , but yet maybe they’re not .
Right now I find peace in the ground , a place I planted myself in the midst of my first set of grief , a solid platform that could hold me. Me, as in my mind, my body, my shattered sense of reality.
I shed it like a winter coat, as if it were to be rid of in permanence, knowing it was a piece of my permanence.
So here we are again, grounded, fearing it, me, and all the in between .
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I have hidden from the ink that writes my story in fear of becoming aimless and fooled by the mental state I’ve been traveling through .
I seek the inspiration that drove me to write words that connected me with the beauty and belief in this world , in people, intertwined by a deeply profound connection to nature.
A magic of its own I feel I once conquered . I basked in this as if it were the sunshine warming my spirit and guiding my soul to feeling endlessly blessed and astonished by creation.
A journey I started, feeling estranged from the me I’d known, that created a love I’d hadn’t felt yet within myself. Lost and found all at once, I embarked on the journey of me.
The euphoria I felt became that of a memory , a feeling I longed for once again, but as all journeys do, this one had ended. Perhaps temporary , or returning in new form, I treasured it’s beauty and dreamed of it’s bliss to encompass my body, my mind, my spirit, once again.
I have grieved it’s absence for many days, wondering if it ever shall return, or if it was merely an experience I’ll always remember.
Maybe I have chosen not to chase it, for I fear it’s conquering to become impossible .
Yet somehow I live for its return and brace myself for its departure.
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Perfection was the picture
painted smiles and subtle signs
Shadows casted on hearts that wept it’s shatter
Breaths of lonely lost in the wind
Treetop dreams with forest fires
Perfect pain
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That moment when we idly await for a storm to come in. Maybe we’ve sensed it’s arrival and felt it’s presence become more near. But that’s the thing about storms , we never truly know how they’ll arrive, with its crashing abruptness or simply with waves of tumultuous intensity. We never truly know the messes to come from it, or the damage that will be done, and so we wait , and we prepare to embrace it with the anticipation that the worst has yet to come but soon will be over. Often times, there’s a beauty in the unknown , even within the unknown danger and chaos of a storm, because it’s purpose is to remind us that as humans we face change and we must learn to adapt and swim above the flooding or we too shall sink and become a product of a storm. We persevere, and we look for that sun break, and we know that behind all of those dark barriers, the cloud blanketed sky , that there is indeed a sky full of sunshine, a space of certainty and promise that there will always be that light at the end of a tunnel .
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She loved the moon the way the ocean loved it too.
The pull of gravity relinquished her from feeling the need to control all aspects of her being.
For those moments she could rest her soul , as peacefully as the stars could dance in the night, motionless, yet with such purpose .
TMHP
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We are deeply connected to those that compliment our souls.
The wisdom inside our being is an art to be captivated by those whom see it and love it for the beauty it unravels onto theirs.
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