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The Season

~ Emma ~ Leave a comment

It lives inside, not out.
I am the mountain beside you, above you, behind you, ahead of you.
I have heard your footsteps and watched you float.
I can tell you that this is the correct way, you’ve made it to my force, now let me carry you.

It lives inside, not out.
The outside is a shell to protect and house the soul, nothing more but cells, skin, bone, follicle.
Deep, deep inside is the song I hear you sing, it penetrates even the tallest of my brothers and sisters.
You have always had a strong tune but this one now is cause for eruption, corruption, an intense bloom.

I love watching you dance and explore.
My favourite part of watching over the land is seeing and feeling your love for all the element.
I have been here for centuries, waited for you a long time.
Now here you are with your gifts and emotion and light so bright it softens all strife.

My wisdom has befallen you and your inhale absorbs the depth.
When you sit in this place and your mind wanders, I catch the thoughts as they jump and you grasp my response and release.
The wings between us, silent, moving, gliding, attaching our hearts, binding and holding.
Thank you for coming, I did not know you could, in your precious presence, gift a height as high as mine.

The sky between us, the water inside us, the stillness around us, the warmth we create.
The engines below us, the electrical above us, we are fluid in our pursuit for comfort and peace.
I tell you a story, as you listen then gracefully repeat, it is so familiar to me, you bring my branches stability.
My rolling hills, creaked valleys, distant rivers and icy caves, changed, because of you.

I’m watching you today so carefully, you took your time with reflection, I felt the dazzle of emotion and I heard your final sing.
Let yourself feel my thunder as I pour the green through your eyes.
You have won something beautiful and being here next to me has always been your reason.
The day is not over yet, the flowers dance, the water holds, the air is slow, you are the season.

Cliff Figure

~ Emma ~ Leave a comment

So, they say just start writing,
if you want to be a writer.
Write what comes, even what doesn’t, just do the thing.
I’m writing and writing and, life is getting brighter.

What else do you see when you think of me?
Are there rainbows, hearts, a flower?
My mind is full of special things, slice it open, want to see?
I told you, it’s like a forest full of explosive colour, it holds a power.

If you look long and with precision, you’ll see the edge of the cliff.
There’s someone standing there, on that edge, in my mind, watching the water below.
Holding out their hands in front of them, palms up, relaxed, calm, never stiff.
Who is it that stands there, it is not me, is it my foe?

Keep in touch with the feeling, the grip and the all knowing.
The wind is pushing you, but also holding you tightly away from ill move.
There is someone inside your mind too, who knows the song of the future, the flowing.
Listen to the one standing on the cliff, directing the improve.

I am told to write by mine, she is telling me with great confidence, to fly.
She is much more delicate, soft and sure now, she see’s something I cannot just yet.
I trust her, she stands strong on that edge, the waves crashing below, she knows why.
The tide doesn’t sway her, the breeze won’t move her, she is free from fret.

What an angel she appears to be, I wish you all could see.
The way her words direct my desires, I am grateful for such a wondrous companion.
The girl on the edge of the cliff in my mind, gazing, she is totally free.
She will never leave, she is here forever, I can always find her, she will not abandon.

What does your companion say, standing on the edge in the mind of you?
How steep is your cliff, how high is your tide, what sounds do the waves make today?
I understand the reservation, the uncertainty and the questioning of who.
You can put all of your faith in that figure, they will always hold at bay.

The figures all stand strong, even amidst mighty storms.
The wavering of thoughts, the flickering of flame.  
I have always listened, always believed and neglected the thorns.
The conversation we had of late, eliminated all of the blame.

You are stronger in sight today, I see and feel you clearer.
The guardian figure of my mind on that cliff, steering me nearer.
Nearer and closer, harder and faster, she knows where to send me.
Off to the races I go, trusting in the shadows and in the light, it is, most definitely,
to be.

Heated Debate

~ Emma ~ 1 Comment

New sights, new smells, but sounds?
No sound. Vacuum sealed shut, inside a tropical greenhouse
where the air is the only language I hear. Its voice is…hot.

Hot syllables, hot paragraphs, hot articulation,
hot communication. This language very new,
what stories it must have and want to tell. Who will listen?

Listen I will, you have my attention,
I hear and understand your tone. I won’t interrupt your thoughts
and will let you explain your sizzled feelings. You breeze, I breathe.

Breath of humidity and your voice cracks.
Sorrow I hear combined with relief and peace. You speak so slowly,
softly and calmly. What a beautiful pace you set with words.

Words I can touch, taste and see. Like rays of colour
shining into my bloodstream, filling my cells with rainbow brights
and jet stream energy. This conversation I will not forget.

Forget the last time your temperature of tone went off kilter.
Forget the way you feel ashamed for losing your composure.
Forget the time your thunderstorm halted my journey home from the waves.

Waves, the way I hear you the loudest.
How you drive your words into my mind straight up from my soles,
my sandy steps, I sink, and you fill me up the more you say.

Say more to me, it’s a story I have never heard.
No need to apologize for waiting for so long. Our timing is right, and
I’ll listen until you’re completely finished and you feel free.

Free to be who you are in your heated, tranquil and soundless glory.
Just because you’re quiet, just because you keep things in,
does not mean there’s less to tell or you are less, there’s so much to glean.

Glean I do from you. You held a fire then with a sword put it out,
as instructed to. Sweet air there is nothing to fear. I understand your frustration
but I see you are now clean. The fire is out, the ashes cleansed, an established purity.

Purity in your mind for finding these words to speak to me in such delicate nature.
I’m listening carefully and I reiterate your messages so you know that I know,
this exchange is perceived with perfection.

Perfection you are not. Perfection you cannot be. Perfection is not me,
perfection I never want to see. Raw and honest and true is how you speak,
a comfort it is for you to tell me things you have held in and never spoke.

Spoke to like I’ve been listening for a decade. You have been waiting a long time.
I hear the splashes of laughter underneath each sentence;
There is trust, fairness and acceptance.

Acceptance, belief and surrender is all that there is. A harmony in
energetic language understood only by those who see. See with their nose, their heart, their fingers and their feet. See using their gifts, mouth wide open hungry for release.

Release it all and let it go. You no longer have to search for someone to listen.
I am here and have given you permission. Tell me everything, you are safe with me,
I hold that promise.

I promise.