A letter to myself; wont you come home love?

Come home to me love,
Come back from all your yearning and taking,
From all your coercing,
Come home from all your regret and pain,
From the deep yearnings of your youth,
From the dreams you were sure were true,
From the perceived money and fame,
The things that were carved from deep personal tragedy,
Come home to love,
Come home to acceptance,
Come home to a little disappointment,
But even more success,
Come home to where hopes and dreams directed to the moon, landed you here,
For better or worse,
With this past,
With these regrets,
Looking and running away won’t make them any less true.

Come home to different hopes,
To a different dream,
A different heart,
A different mind.

The past is not accessible anymore,
It is left in a forgotten realm,
A place that cannot be reclaimed.
But it has not left ruins, it has left real dirt from which can grow beautiful oak trees,
It is no longer as it was,
It can’t be anymore.

It must mean a whole new world exists,
One that may be new,
New may be scary,
New may be different,
But new is possible,
New is lovely,
New is challenging but it is the real version of events,
This holding onto what may have been is a product of the former self.

Come home love,
Come to reality,
To what is possible.
I’m sorry for the deep pain.
It’s time to come home.
You belong here.
You belong to change.
You belong to the universe.

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My Lost Lover & I

What have we known about love dear one?

We were just kids when we were sold a dream
A hope that fulfilled every longing
That solved every problem in the universe
But here we are, stuck in a cube, imprisoned by the thing that was promised to make us
Wrestling purpose and pleasure
Seeking definition and affirmation
Only to fall short.
Anger brewing. Hope deterred.
Dreams forsaken.

Here I am in a straightjacket in this room my love
I come running after you, and you tease me with your sultry beauty and elegance
Leaving me wanting, and hurting
As I am getting closer, you are staying far.

You are tethered to your inadequacies my love
Positioned in tempting providence that cannot fulfill your reality
You are raised and lowered by your expectations
And you are found starving and begging. Never receiving.

Here we are mon amour, senseless beings, in a vast universe
One that sees us as ants in the grand forest of life
Left to our own devices, feeling everything, knowing nothing
Small tokens for the pleasure of the gods.

Painting: The Lovers II, 1928 by Rene Magritte
https://www.renemagritte.org/the-lovers-2.jsp

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My Mind

My mind is as boundless as the universe
Expanding and growing
Akin to the terror and the chaos
The beauty that exists in tension & in the forgotten darkness
Bright and gorgeous, barren and whole
Time in a void
Moving infinitely at the speed of light
Remembering and forgetting
Grasping and freeing.

My mind is limitless in its ability to conjure up the chaos that exists in parallel with a vast universe
Begging for solitude, to be left alone, yet the extent of humanity’s exploration has infiltrated even these corners of my own humanity
Perhaps all of nature follows the same rules
What is happening in the universe is happening in my mind
The expansion, the obscurity, the scale, the unknown
The promise of life
The danger and the hope.

Therein exists freedom and transformation.
Boundless as the universe do I exist.

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Oh ye traveler

Travel to the sun.
Be a seeker,
Disappear within the light,
The warmth,
Let the heat have you and heal you.
Exist therefore in a different state,
One that does not know chaos and pain.
One that does not know darkness.
[Live in the light]

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Giants

We have seen their mountainous solitude for eons
Still and unwavering
We could trace their faces
Their well rounded closed eyes
They were our dead protectors
We were sure they would never rise.

Last Friday
We heard one of them moved
Frightened as we were
Unsure of what it would mean
We thought our resolve would ground us.

Yet,
Would this be the end of us?
The giants have ruled us in their slumber
For generations they have remained still
Unencumbered by what we have thought to be progress
We’ve heard stories of their fierce magnitude
Their weight
As if holding the earth in their grasp
Will our resolve face their immensity
Will their consciousness expose our fragility.

Finally,
With guarded breathes
We have watched them awaken one by one
With their eyes fixed far beyond the stars
Reaching out to the great unknown with desperation and promise
With a heavy hand of beautiful stone, made of dust and destiny
As if calling or praising the mystery lying beyond our universe.

We all watched frightened
Unnerved
As the giants stirred from the depths of the ocean bed
To the peaks of the Kangchenjunga
The desert hills of the Kalahari
To the amazon.

Our mountains have risen.

Who are we now but observers of our assured descent.
We always thought it was going to be sun.
We always thought we were the center of the universe.
The glory in the chaos.

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On Beauty

Beauty
Wondrous and poetic
She stands mighty, high above the clouds, far beyond the understanding of mankind
She will not be limited to finite ideas of who she is
She was created to transcend the meagre thoughtless attitudes of those tasked in having her
She will not be boggled down by lipsticks, and cheap tricks
Her value is worth more than the inadequacies of mirrors
Yet the burden of her meaning; to understand her, is more than humans can bare
The lesser cannot define the greater
This standard can never be met.

She stands unreachable and perfect
She was never meant to be copied – only admired
Felt
Not imposed but heard
She cannot be defined
The proof of her existence can be seen on many faces
Over the rough oceans and on planets
Plants
And full moons, children being born
She can be seen when the Maasai dance
She is there at the highest peaks and lowest valleys
With the unheard, the unseen
The terrifying and the serene.

Beauty expands herself to all things great and small
She will not be boxed
She will not be tamed
She will hurt those who try, with weariness and emptiness
She is far more than meets the eye
She is the beholder of her own truth
She makes it much, while the lesser make it little.

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