It's not fair I can't fall asleep with the trees every winter and only rise again when the distant sun returns being left abandoned in this windswept landscape is too much agony to endure year after year Left to live as a corpse in this cold darkness denied the sweet slumber offered to half of nature unable to escape into an expanded unconsciousness until I am awaked by the scent of spring flowers Half my life is wasted waiting for the thaw huddled into myself for safety and warmth where the beauty of the silent snow cannot creep into my veins Patience is a virtue I have not been artful in the ticking clock torments me and tears me down telling me I must rise and not let time slip by while my delicate soul continues to shiver
poetry
The Devil’s Mill
There was a time when the world moved slow with the rounded loveliness of hiccupping days that dripped gently into the deep, reflective pool of life When rushing into the future was a sign of ill intent not the industrious, enviable attitude of an elite individual only a madman would pass up the daily spectacle of the setting sun The wind through the reeds served its own ends and it was an honor just to be a witness to this earth as she twirled and unfurled a routine of majestic mysteries Time is the tyrant that has torn us from true living a construct of man that manifests in ceaseless obligations a slight of hand that has convinced us it is objective and concrete A clock will not tell you that this moment is eternal the liquid nature of the kaleidoscope of now if forever transforming and becoming something new The radio static of the collective mind has gotten so loud it's all but drown out the music of the present moment for us all life has become the distant background noise of greater misery But the shackles of time can still be cast off it's not too late to emerge again into snow white infinity the devil's mill that man has set in motion can also be stopped
The Gift of Idleness
Paradise is promised to us through painstaking productivity happiness is hanging there just past more hard work It's shameful to acknowledge exhaustion after hours toiling in the sweltering sun no one dares commit the sin of sitting down swallowed up by the fear of being labeled lazy Capitalism is cleaver if nothing else convincing us to become our own slave drivers soiling our own perceptions of what it means to savor this one and only existence Linking the concept of leisure with sloth until we never stop moving for even a second losing sight of our right to be idle and enjoy the God-given gifts of this life Standing still is an act of shocking rebellion in a social system that expects you to burn your own flesh to feed the never ending fire of the economy and sacred stock market These collective misguided morals congeal making virtue synonymous with profit for the powerful a seed of shame buried deep within the conscience of every unfortunate American child Your blood is worth only as much as the oil that it can replace in the groaning machine of industry keep making the products you will always be too poor to consume yourself Trying to make us forget that stillness has been the wellspring of all great art and invention a futile effort to make us too tired to revolt they cannot choke off my awe of the open sky
Learning to Float
Sometimes it takes simple things to help settle the restless soul despite the illusion only grand gestures could get us unstuck The stillness below the chaos is where true safety lies waiting while we keep covering ourselves with gleaming trinkets and lofty ambitions It seems silly to suppose a couple extra glasses of water could cleanse this nagging agitation simmering ceaselessly inside Impossible to imagine transformation taking shape from a few moments of mindful breathing in the evening while the mind is insisting we need more Soft bubbles of splendid space open up when we stop moving savoring the sensation of buoyancy when we finally stop swimming
Sick of Self-Care
Acts once performed with the intention of loving kindness have become just additional burdens of mindless routine every little task now resonates with resentment self-care disfigured and transmuted into self-harm Somehow I turn even healing practices into poison to punish myself for not meeting my own expectations what is there inside me that turns self-love so sour? why doesn't putting in the work work for me? Tools I was told would transform me if I was patient were twisted into weapons of perfectionism just more masochistic mutations of all the miracles I used to think would some day save me I'm so tired of this futile self-improvement project called me the pearls of ancient wisdom I've turned to soot within my fingers the internal pressure of trying to get better is the terminal illness of my inner-most essence
January 2023
January punishes with pale grey glances punctuated by ragged breaths of sharp wind the air is empty of all familiar affection no more lingering, soft caresses from the sun The candles have all been extinguished on hearths and families that had gathered for feasting seem to have long since dispersed and dissolved back into this new year of silent, bleak darkness Expected to set goals while my soul is frozen over exhausted by the pitiful effort of just trying to get by themes of death thud against the weather worn door while paper crane wishes are swallowed up in icy oblivion Winter is a season where time stands still and all perspective on life is lost within waiting and the halfhearted insistence I'll feel good again in spring promise me this practice of painful patience will pay off
Envy
Comparison is the thief of joy and my wealth has all slipped away through the heavy sieve of envy The swelling warmth of gratitude has given way to the sweltering heat of sharp, gnawing jealousy My eyes keep straining toward empty places between vast, unobserved abundance fixated on the violent feeling of unfairness Cinder blocks of bitter energy build walls to block my view of countless blessings souring my simple share of happiness Unable to stop magnifying this self-induced, unnecessary suffering while being simultaneously smothered by the shame of being unsatisfied when I have so much
The Ocean Breathes
Serenity resides beside the seashore beneath the salty breath of the ocean the rhythmic humming of the heavy tide reminds me to breathe deeply The liquid lungs of this sacred planet the dark, watery womb of all life releasing oxygen into the atmosphere while it sways against the weight of the moon The crashing exhale of massive waves chases away all fears of letting go hypnotized by the back and forth of forces far greater than I The awe-inspiring grandeur of the undulating sea brings a deep sense of peace I've been holding my breath
Unnecessary Need
I resent the need for community the suffocation that settles over the soul after prolonged periods of being utterly alone I'm not presumptuous enough to suppose that other people could ever value me I wouldn't ask for what I don't deserve The human condition is being put in the position to require some amount of social support that I am unwillingly compelled to pursue I won't pray for things I haven't earned, that I am unfit for all I ask is to be spared the pain of possessing a basic need that always aches, but cannot be fulfilled Please let the empty spaces satiate fill me up with the silence beneath everything make this loneliness enough for me
Manifest
Early morning cracks us open a plump, orange yolk perched upon the rolling expanse of open acres the symphony of dawn begins beneath a veil of cool, dissipating mist The earth awakens and unfurls in an instant with interwoven, simultaneous, upbeat bustling as hundreds of intricate beings of all sizes emerge to dutifully begin their humble daily tasks unwittingly weaving the world together for one another The swollen present swallows us completely enveloped in the electric energy currents of pulsating life rushing through creek beds and rustling vibrant leaves a soothing, faithful hum that echoes inside and out intoxicated by the sweet nectar of undulating harmony Each moment overflowing with the simple joy of right now lapping up the soft waters of where we belong indistinguishable elements of the intricate, lush landscape synchronizing ourselves to the cadence of all creation every instant ripe with it's own inherent meaning