Made in your reflection
So that you can feel
Mad in your intentions
Feel it isn’t real
All the recollections
Spinning in a field
Left in your possession
Till it isn’t real.
Say it isn’t real.
In hand of sun, no peace of mind.
Where you begin and I’m defined.
Daughter of unconscious faith,
Time will tell in spite of me.
In hand of sun, no peace of mind
It begins, and we’ll be fine.
Shadows bend, and suddenly
The world becomes
And swallows me in.
pure flow:
Oct 2011 -
“While driving home tonight. I noticed myself intentionally missing the turn into my neighborhood. I began to drive out into the pretty areas of Hockinson - blue mountains hovering over rolling farm land, the autumn trees burning the edge of every possible composition. It is beautiful - this place is beautiful! Yet, here I sit, pulled over in a gravel ditch, heavy with discontent and no direction to go. I have so much passion bustling inside of me, but no frame of reference in where to put it. I have always known what I love and don’t love, but the difference between then and now is I have acquired a confidence in what I can and cannot do.
There are so many options and ways I could go - it is completely and utterly overwhelming. What I am old, I want to be dependently by the side of the one I love. I want to look back on this life and feel one hundred percent content with the choice I have made. But right now is the biggest choice, and it completely overwhelms me. I want to see more beauty. I want to be raw and out of my element once again. I want to see more things that make me appreciate and love this wonderful place I come from, ever more than I already do. I want to be inspired always. I want to be proud of my courage, and confident in the decisions I have made. I want to have a story to tell. I want to love unconditionally, and be loved. I want to stare into the eyes of someone of my same breed, and feel the trust I have never been able to find.”
My, has my world shifted. This new growth sprouts even at this moment, leaving me still unaware of the vast alterations of where I now stand. However, looking back on this entry, and all of the pieces I wrote around this time, I can now blatantly see what my current life is lacking. The free flow from my heart, the accessibility of my own brain flow in the form of ink’d loops. I have caught myself in a rut as of late, where every move I make feels highly insignificant. This is where that ends, each stroke paints the painting, each word forms the prose. I need to relearn to release all that is on my heart, in words, in art, through the sound of my typically unheard voice.
If you read through all of this, you must really love me. Or just be really bored with your evening ;)
And your head fell on my shoulder like a willow
There were diamonds laced with sorrow in the pillow
Bedroom of stars,
1st day of May.
Gone are the days of begging,
The days of theft.
No more gasping for a breath.
The air has filled me head to toe,
And I can see the ground far below.
I have this breath and I hold it tight,
And I keep it in my chest with all my might.
I pray to god this breath will last,
As it pushes past my lips.
As I..
Gasp.
I awoke in amber light. That kiss of bronze, laced with the fingers of a phantom touch blanketed over us.
low spirits and a heavy heart this night.
