No rose
(not a single one)
ever bloomed in an instant.
Listen to the silence
of the journey.
Let the rose bloom
as she will.
No rose
(not a single one)
ever bloomed in an instant.
Listen to the silence
of the journey.
Let the rose bloom
as she will.
Oh, but darling.
The wind will take you, anyway.
Ain’t no fighting the wind, darling.
Ain’t no fighting the wind.
I have spent so much time
searching for the next step,
and yet
the next step
has always been taken.
With no need to search.
The sun is one
but never can shine
as one.
Her rays will splay,
and always touch the world
(in slices)
as they do.
How they splay
is a question for each new moment.
Who they will touch,
and in what way:
undiscovered.
The sun will shine as she will.
The sun will always shine
as she will.
Control.
Lack of it.
Need for it.
Flight from it.
Control.
There will always be
hunger
for freedom.
People say
there are certain truths
that whistle louder
through the weeping willows
of lake humanity.
Love
bounces and drifts
over the still waters,
sweet and true.
Hate
gathers in clumps of stone
and ice
and shatters the peaceful flow,
once clear and blue.
Life
among the willows
is true in all forms.
Life
among the willows
is true
in all forms.
I’m feeling a little tender, today.
It’s a lovely feeling, don’t get me wrong. Soft and sweet, like a warm rainy day. It’s a feeling I’ve sat with at various points over the last few years, a new softness that has grown into me like the sweetest of dreams.
It’s just…it’s an aching quiet, actually, is what it is.
A middle land. A place for me to live within the beauty of this moment, a place to also feel the absence of the hearts and souls that bring me to life. How beautiful it is to connect with souls who fill you with life itself. How beautiful it is to love them. If only I could bottle them and keep them with me always.
I’ll never regret a moment of this winding life.
The aches that have held me so firmly in place some days, the internal fights that have cracked me open. The surrender. It’s all a part of it, isn’t it? This life we all try so hard to control— there is no controlling it. Even if we could catch the wind in a jar…how could we possibly know it was in there?
I am handing you this small patch of quiet in the hopes you might pin it to your heart, or your soul, or somewhere nice. That the soft of me might bring you some comfort, or friendship, or whatever it is that might be missing for you in this moment.
To those friends I am missing: I love you. You are a part of me.
To those I will never meet again, it was sweet. (Or not. Just sayin’)
And to the parts of me that are magically brewing in some invisible place, waiting to be seen and known and touched: I am here.
I will wait.
In this quiet place, I will wait.