Categories
Life

The Beautiful Things

There are days when the wind blows my feelings in storms over the sea of life, and on these days my old friend fear rows back to me and makes himself known. Do you need me, he says, can I hold you a little longer, he says.

On those days, I am human. On those days I worry and I cry and I tense up, thinking I might have lost something precious that once held me perfectly. Thinking, oh no. What if my life tumbles into bits and pieces, again?

Then there are the moments that shine like a diamond struck directly by the suns brightest ray. Moments of Devine breath. Like the other day, for instance, in the garden. The silent whispers were there again, and not in some imaginative fairy world kind of way. In a very real feeling kind of way.

Somehow (and you all know by now that I am completely clueless as to the how and the why of these sorts of things) there was communication happening between my heart and the earth. The weeds for heaven sake, weeds I once would have gritted my teeth at and angrily resented. They were silently singing. I couldn’t help but love them dearly.

Have you ever looked into someones eyes and felt they were speaking to you without words? If you’ve been in love before, it’s certain that you have. This kind of energetic communication happens between man and nature, too, apparently, and I am the first to say how surprised I am about this glorious darling of a thing.

And it is glorious. My goodness, it is.

There is no human language to describe a Devine beauty such as mans union with nature, but I truly hope that if you’ve not yet known this depth of beauty in your life, you one day will.

If not, I have been here, giving you my words and my heart, hoping they have been enough.

No one should leave this planet without going to this lovely place within themselves.

And so it is I send my wish out for all the world to find their way.

And so it is I am grateful.

I have found heaven at home.

Photo by Min An on Pexels.com
Categories
Life

Life, Ever Fragile

The fragility of life can be truly shocking.

There’s a beautiful line from a Sarah Barellies song called, ‘She used to be mine’.

It goes like this:

Sometimes life just slips in through the back door, and carves out a person, and makes you believe it’s all true.

It makes me think of how funny we all are. How we travel along believing we’re very much in control until suddenly we realise…we never were in control. Not ever. At all.

Perhaps we maintain the beautiful illusion of control, quite well, but ultimately when life steps in and presents its aching quiet…all we can do is look at it peacefully and understand: this is.

Life, ever fragile.

Always beautiful.

In fact, it’s the darkness that shows us what light is.

It is our fragility that shows us our strength.

It is our failures that show us the right way forward.

And it is anger, fear, hate that shows us how deeply beautiful surrender is.

How deeply beautiful love is.

Life frightens me, sometimes, but peace is the shining puddle I look for beneath every rainy day.

I feel it, now.

I feel it, now.

Sending sooooo much love, however life may be swaying you, lovely bloggy friends.

Always, so much love, from me.

xx

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Categories
Poetry

Now They Are One

Shadow dancer on the wall.

Darling of light and form.

A body.

A wall.

Each but a fragment of life

until they find each other.

Now they are one, yes.

Now they are one.

Categories
Poetry

Tomorrow’s Sweet Sun

How sweet it is, dear life.

To choose better, without handing a cup of pain to another.

To know my worth and to ask equal to its value without hesitation: a true gift from the whirling, twirling invisible world of all.

I have a choice, is what life has shown me. To kindly and carefully choose a brighter day. To say thank you but no, this does not work for me.

To seek compromise fairly

or else

gracefully capture

tomorrow’s sweet sun.

Categories
Poetry

Ballerina

I was a ballerina in a past life.

Of course, I can’t be certain.

But as I look in the mirror,

lift my arms, tilt my neck—

I know this place,

this grace.

And sometimes I wonder why.

person wearing ballet shoes
Photo by Kuya Yus on Pexels.com

Categories
Poetry

It Is A Gift

It is a gift.

An open heart

spun into ebony lace:

words.

So much more than what they seem.

The chance to see,

and believe

that anything is possible,

always.

No matter how wild the wind

on a quiet sea.

Close your eyes.

Never forget this kiss,

this treasure on the tip of your nose,

on the flat of your forehead.

It is safety, it is home.

The softness that whistles

the voice of all things.

Listen.

It is a gift.

family decorating their christmas tree
Photo by Jonathan Borba on Pexels.com

 

Categories
Poetry

The Day Moon

When the day moon shines

from its blue morning home,

I reach into the quiet

and feel

once again

the tender, sweet moments

of yesterday.

illustration of moon showing during sunset
Photo by David Besh on Pexels.com