I’m in a flurry

Surrounded by love and

would-be lovers 
This life has become a storm
I’ve committed to standing

Being stationary 

and my spirit can not cope
It craves mystery

Wonder 
I don’t believe in second chances

Because I don’t believe 

Things truly end
They cycle

Reflect – then

Carry on

There’s energy in 

Beginning though 
Maybe that is what 

Draws me to them

It’s a dangerous kind of 
Addiction 

Rage.  Rage.  I blink back my fiery tears.  I will not allow this wave to take me under.  The current is strong, but my resolve is stronger.

I am blinded.  Droplets of the salty sea fly into my eyes.  Bring salty tears to the brims of my lashes.  I rage.  Oh how I rage.  Balance lost,  I flail my arms in a seemingly futile effort to steady myself.

Another wave.  I have yet to recover from the first.  Yet here it is.  Stronger, larger than the last.  Again, nearly pulling me under.  I gasp for air.  Fight to surface.  This is a test of my strength, my cunning my fortitude.  

I must not fail.  I will not fail.

Fight fight.  Rage rage.  Live. Live.

Survive.

It has been a while since I have written.  This is due to various reasons, however, the heart of it is that I have not had the heart for it.

Recently I have been undergoing a serious overhaul of my inner self.  I was walking out my days in a blissful haze, letting the heat of the sun dance upon my back, wandering the streets with friends, singing, dancing and howling at the moon.  This soul needed it; needed a chance to let out all of the bitterness and hurt that had settled there.  This soul needed the opportunity to stir itself and remember why it burns with such passion.

The reason it burns, ekes out fire, as a tree ekes out life, is because this world needs it.  Long have I been under the misapprehension that I am limited.  I have walked out my days thinking that though I have dreams, they are somehow out of reach.  Yes, there are countless people who have been blessed with an idea, a dream and through the courage of their convictions, brought that dream to beauteous life, but I always knew that wasn’t for me.

It wasn’t until I was wandering down the streets of Portland, caught in a heady daze, when I had a startling break through.  Patterns in my brain connected which had never before met and I realized that nothing is impossible.  I’ll say it again, no thing is impossible.  During this moment, I was granted a glimpse through time and sprawled out in front of me was a vision of my life ten years from now, and for the first time since the world told me I couldn’t, I realized I could.

I have something in the works.  This thing is big, and it is dreamy and it is so so so important and I can make it happen.  I will bring it to fruition. That knowing, that utmost certainty brings tears of an emotion I have yet to name bright to my eyes.

“May you live in interesting times” is said to be a curse.  Perhaps it is.  The fact is, we do.  We live in a time when nothing is certain, and everyday people are hurting, everyday people are suffering and people are craving change.  This world cannot survive without a change.  It is felt in the air, this change is craved in climate, in behaviors, in culture.  We live in interesting times and I have every intention of making them just a bit more interesting.

 

I read about the language of the stars, and you creep into my mind.

Before I can understand what my body is doing, warmth spreads throughout my form.

Humming, tingling, floating.

My eyes drift shut, lids containing worlds beneath them.  The world which I enter holds a version of you that desires me.

This you, sighs when my hand rests upon your face, rush of air pushed from your lungs which you were not even aware you had collected.

This you missed me as much as the deepest part of my soul missed you.  In this world I am mad for you, and you for me.

I touch your face and you press it against my palm.

When our lips meet, it is for the first time, and oh ! how exquisite they feel! How warm and soft and right.

We have been apart too long and our bodies tell us so. 

I fall into you and happily, you to me, otherwise I fear we may have toppled over.

But the meeting of our lips was nothing like the meeting of our thighs.

Our hands diving to deep, wet, musky spaces, fingers splaying and pressing and touching and exploring.

How have we never known one another this way ?  This is certainly what bliss feels like.

At once light, floating, grounded, separate, whole, present.

Our fingers are travelers now, explorers.  They delve into spaces I have only dreamt about in the dark corners of my wanting. 

Here they are merged with you, seeking out the secrets of your flesh, your soul.  Wanting to know you deeply, wholly.

My arm wraps itself about your waist and cups your thigh, pulling you to me, begging you to let me go deeper, know you longer.

I feel your body shudder, arch itself impossibly further into me, and I know your secret.  I reached inside of you and was granted access to your soul.

It is upon these walls that your secret is written.  My fingers memorize every word, before they reluctantly make their journey home.

I open my eyes.

Only a fantasy. Single tear slips from my eye.  I remember why the gates to my heart are so securely shut.

I turn my attention back to the stars. Too many nights end this way.