99 Cents.

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99 cents to my name.

A welling up of tears,

In a sea full of blame.

I’ve neglected to face,

This reality—now 15 years past.

Sunshine in a mountaintop meadow,

My awakening dawn.

When the birds begin to sing,

I’m born again—still with nothing.

A waist that’s grown thin and feet that ache greatly.

Each day,

My descent reminds me,

Just which world I’m living in.

When memories fade and nothing remains,

I’m reminded,

Just who in the hell I think I am.

Angered at others,

For their own misdeeds.

My own past lives,

Finally catching up to me.

A sorry work of art,

Pretending to be,

Someone,

Something—worthy of good things.

Sadness weighs heavy,

On a heart full of anguish.

Happiness a glimmer,

In other people’s eyes and smiles.

My own reflection,

Just a pretense of my own hidden,

Miserable,

Waking reality.

~

Image: Flickr.

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Something Beautiful.

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I don’t have to be here.

I am nothing.

Where’s the glory in what I’m doing,

When nothing really matters?

I’m about to have a mental breakdown,

Because I’m broken, alone and afraid.

What’s the point in sticking around,

When life is nothing but a mirage?

If I lie awake long enough,

Maybe this dream will end.

But who’s to say,

When nothing’s left—that all of this is for something?

There are tears welling up from within,

And a death wish that simply will not pass.

I don’t need to make sense of a senseless reality,

Where no one seems to care about anything worth living for.

There are times I wish it would be done for me.

My life,

Taken before my very eyes,

As I rise above,

Away from here.

~

Image: Flickr.

Struggling to Stay Afloat—Respite in Trusting that Creator will Shelter us from even the Most Bitter Winds.

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I have fought to stay afloat, while adrift at sea—only to discover that the more I struggled, the deeper into the abyss I sank.

While gasping for air, the mirage of an island and its shoreline appeared ever so near to me, despite finding deep peace in just letting my exhausted body go.

It was of no consequence—fighting to breathe, when my lungs were already full of salted tear water.

Realizing that no matter how much I tried to lift others up above me, I did so at my own peril.

When we awaken one day to see the moon split in two, we realize that no matter how much we divide our energy, we are never full.

Are we meant to sink or should we lie in hope that “if I swim”, solace and shorelines will surely arrive?

Time and time again, I’ve surrendered to the will of some higher power after attempting to carry the weight of the world upon my hapless shoulders.

It has beaten me down and left me for dead—an outcast of society because I chose a different path.

My shaking hands and aching feet remind me every painful step of the way that one misstep and I might stumble and break.

As my pride wears thin and the veil of illusion becomes abhorrently transparent, I’m beckoned to accept that I cannot fight on behalf of a world which does not wish to be saved.

Tears stream down my face and the people I’ve wronged or simply miss, appear like apparitions in my wandering mind’s eye.

The salt of our wounds stains our cheeks and we are reminded of what it tastes like to feel so greatly.

Dear God, I have nothing to offer but my pain in exchange for an ounce of another’s happiness and retreat from what it means to harbor this world’s torment.

“Creator”, I ask: “Will you help this person, then the next and in doing so, guide me to each new place in time?”

I’ve nothing to ask for, most of the time—except that you shelter me from the bitter winds of truth so that I might brave, yet another storm of purging energies.

“Do not ask me to remain with you. I cannot stay, for I was never meant to take root.”

I am the air and my scent may linger for awhile, but we both know it was never meant to last beyond the bittersweet taste of pleasurable day dreams, before my flame-lit passage into the unknown, again ignites.

Aloft, I am carried to and fro—leaving behind only a shadow of memories, the haunting sound of laughter and a trail of remorseful tears.

My heart must not cage itself for too long, as it was never meant to live and love conditionally.

There’s no sense to make of an awakening wanderer’s life, for it belongs to the soul of this Earth and abides by a higher calling, unlike my own mind’s musings.

No matter how much I fight to hold on or perpetuate the same, it seems that Spirit still calls upon me, just like on this day—no different than the next.

The split moon is my sign that I must move up, to the top of this mountain.

Dwelling in the valley for too long would mean that my suffering will only persist.

Solitude and Nature heals a broken heart who only knows that fostering forgiveness and cheer is what the many I’ve encountered have asked for—fewer answers or concerns to ponder, but perhaps just a token of insight and assurance, that life is truly splendid and worth living for.

Let’s not take our time so seriously while these passing moments diminish in time.

There’s but one truth that I’m now aware of; for the warrior who’s been chosen or initiated—letting go is no different than turning one’s back to protect them from the harsh, biting winds of life.

The Brilliant Unison of Love.

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Seduce her mind and you will win her heart.

Bow to her with humility and humble grace.

Look up to her, but know she is your equal.

We are all fallible in nature—let her see your scars and open your tender wounds for her to heal.

Be her own healing witness with unconditional acceptance.

Cast a shadow, only so she may feel a sense of relief.

Be her guide and protect her insecurities, so she can remember her divinity.

Let her embrace who she truly is, without attachment.

Stand brightly in your own integrity and let her witness your inner prowess and faults too.

Never beg her to stay but always cherish her freedom to go, if she must.

Trust in her as you trust in yourself and allow your friendship to outweigh all else.

Companionship between two flickering flames is a formidable alliance, gilded from the depths of unconditional love, recognition and commitment to one another's individual and collective soul journey.

Pray she chooses you, not based upon some front or illusion, but through our own disgraces, mistakes and struggles.

If she forgives your past, you may have a chance at winning her true love.

If you but open your heart to her, she may return. If not, always view her as your momentary saving grace, ally, partner and friend.

Never expect her to become something she simply is not. Forge her strengths but challenge her weaknesses in a way that demonstrates to her, the potential for greatness.

When her light is dim, cast your own inner glow upon her with a love that carves deep crevices within the intricate framework of her tranquil beauty for this current to flow.

Lastly, be willing to heal her wounds unconditionally, whether she ever accepts you into her life or not.

Walk away if it is not for you—if her love is not yours to embody and embrace; to cherish, everlasting.

We're always walking to or away from the love of our lives and will never know which corner we'll round before mating with that mystical splendor of true love that only two souls could have imagined in brilliant unison.

Long before we arrived here, we knew. That is how we'll know, "It's you."