The Long Road

It’s a long road
The road to healing
At times unpaved
We may get lost
Towards more scenic routes
Where the heart is burst open
And Sunrise shimmer with colors
So Sunsets can paint the sky
Finding our way again
With a surer self
Until we realize
It’s in the uncertainty
We feel at home
So, travel on
That long road.
But keep the heart open
And take your SELF along.

Everything

“I don’t come from much…”

You come from the dry desert
And summer rains
You come from tree canopies
And sun rays
You come from wild flowers
Through concrete
You come from daylight
At midnight’s arctic
You come from the color of leaves
In the hills of fall
You come from deep oceans
And the wave’s call
You come from thunder rolls
And lightning strikes
You come from the new moon
In the night sky

You, my beautiful one, come from
EVERYTHING

Surface Bullshit

 
Small talks to break the ice
First impression, surface nice.
But what lies there behind those eyes?
Who are you past your disguise?
What is setting that soul on fire?
What is keeping that heart inspired?
Not so interested in your threads;
A decorated shell you’ll one day shed.
What I want’s to be led inside,
To the dark corners of your mind.
To learn more about your being
And to see you through your seeing
Because what matters is how you tick
Under your shell and surface bullshit.

Confessions of a Daydreamer

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Staring into the world
Internalize what I see
Allow myself to feel
The Joys and tragedies

But when it gets too heavy
Retreat myself away
Seek and find idealism
Daydream of better days

Days in a universe
Parallel to all that is
Where manifestation reveals
A world of love and bliss

A daydreamer, that I am
With humility, my confession
I’ll be the change I would like to see
Create it with compassion.

Discovering you, discovering me

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“Eve was framed” photo by Lori Vrba

Observing you, perception defines

I see my essence in your divine

I see my reason in your purpose

I see my ego on your surface

I see my flaws in your perfection

I see my deficient in your rejection

I see my sympathy in your exposure

I see my anxiety in your composure

I see my eccentric in your audacity

I see my coyness in your vivacity

I see my colors in your expression

I see my rigor in your digression

I see my love in your lust

I see my cynicism in your trust

In pieces of you, pieces of me are set free

Discovering you, I am discovering me.

My Love…

Alex Grey's 'Cosmic Lovers"

Alex Grey’s ‘Cosmic Lovers’

“‘My love, you are a river fed by many streams.
I bless all who have shaped you,
The lovers whose delights still dance patterns on your back,
Those who carved your channels deeper, broader, wider,
Whitewater and backwater lovers,
Swamp lovers, sun-warmed estuary lovers,
Lovers with surface tension,
Lovers like boulders,
Like ice forming and breaking,
Lovers that fill and spill with the tides.
I bless those who have taught you
and those who have pleased you,
and those who have hurt you,
All those who have made you who you are.’”

— excerpt from The Fifth Sacred Thing: Starhawk

Romanticism

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“Satire is people as they are; romanticism, people as they would like to be; realism, people as they seem with their insides left out.” Dawn Powell

“…Romanticism is people as they would like to be….” to add, romanticism is people as others would like them to be, events as people would like them to be, things as people would like them to be.

In the end, the people, event, and thing never are what it is wished to be. So why do we romanticize all of them as such? Maybe we should blame our creativity? Our endless imagination which can dive into whichever abyss it desires to get lost in…usually triggered by what the heart wants to feel.

Maybe we should blame music and movies, which give the impression to be written just for us. From music lyrics that invade our mental state and flirt with our feelings, to film’s  happy or heartbreak endings, fit to validate our mood.

Besides people and things, we also romanticize our past. To bring realism to light, hindsight is 20/20 with a slight case of amnesia. Enter romanticism and we romanticize our past based on how we feel about our present. Lack of contentment can send a person lurking in the past, romanticizing the loneliest days as one of their best; romanticizing a love that evaporated to the love that got away; romanticizing sleepless exhausting nights with a crying baby as sleepless nights of bonding with the new love of their life.

It is a cruel game, this game of romanticism. Even more cruel is if we give into it and assume romanticism as satire (or as people, events, things as they are), only to realize that romanticism took advantage of our naïvety and pulled us in and spit us out with the disappointments of failed expectations.

But, there is beauty in the intoxication of romanticism. This beauty lives in the inspiration it gives us, the inspiration to create. That love, that person, that event, that past, we romanticize and we create beautiful music, beautiful paintings, beautiful poems…beautiful art. Romanticism LIVES in art…no matter the satire.

When you give yourself away…..

 

The Birth of Venus by Sandro Botticelli

 

When you let the mask fall off

Wear your heart on a sleeve

Other masks may fall as well

Or hide behind planned mischief

When you let a stranger in

And share all that you are

They may share back themselves

Or mock your open heart

When you live with compassion

Practice what is kind

They may be of gratitude

Or be manipulative with your mind

When you give yourself away

Completely naked and bare

They may breakdown their walls

Or just leave you standing there

But don’t be so discouraged

If they don’t love your soul

Because what we do, the karma is ours

And what they do, out of our control.

So Give yourself away, be what you would like to see.

Continue to “Be the kind of person, you would like to meet.”