Cliff Figure

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.

Seeing Without Scars

She knows what she needs to do.
This task, this ask, this duty is owed to her.
She knows what she needs to do.
So, why is it every time it happens her mind goes a blur?

Captive to thoughts, ideas, fantasy.
The little twang of regret every single time.
The position of her heart, now needing a canopy.
The frailty of emotion resting on a dime.

Over and over the cycle continues, no one at fault.
The spike in chemicals reminiscent of lost hope.
The downshift and comedown, like opening and closing the vault.
She thinks of this as a supposed easy thing to do but, nope.

Why oh why does she fly in a sky full of unruly feathers and scattered dirt?
When really, her soul is calling her to the sea, alone and bottomless. Free.
The decision each moment, to be what is known, causes hurt.
She is stronger and faster and will no longer agree.

She knows what she needs to do, but it is taking a toll.
Shouldn’t, couldn’t, wouldn’t, it is not for her anymore.
Letting go, a triumph of will, mind strength, resisting the pull.
This year of fire and of stallion, causing massive movement and heated chore.

The race to find peace among chaos and intensity and false lore.
One more taste of the divine to set her free at last.
The momentum strong, but consistency is a bore.
She wants it all or nothing at all, and settles for a moment, in the comfort of the past.

Staying right here, right now, seeing without scars.
There are people waiting for her, she is not deaf.
The silent gift of seeing, knowing, keeps her outside on Mars.
She cares deeply, wants you to know, but she’s different now, take a breath.

What appears insignificant to some, strikes her like a thorn.
She is wiser than what you imagine, even then some, and more.
Stop the chase, the controlled wall, just let it all go and be torn.
She isn’t like the rest, she holds gratitude and grace and loves to restore.

She knows the battle well, it continues day after day.
But today is different, this day is saying, “say what you say, it will all be ok.”
Trust in a higher power, the guidance and the proper way.
She listens to her angels; she will nurture and explode, she is on her way.

When the Clocks Stop

The day had rain and so did the night.
Cool sparkles on tall towers flashing and few;
I held out my tongue to taste, the sound of you.

You whispered and then screamed.
Confused were many but some so sure;
The temperature changing creating a blur.

Silence please, momentary stillness you gave.
A tear in the fabric my clothes are worn and holed;
The dampness outside and now in, leaves me quite cold.

Receiving and receiving, eloquent angels of mine.
Your language subtle, clear, persistent and radical;
My layer is shed now what’s left, a new botanical.

Hanging and sitting tick, tick, tick.
Years of noise a tapestry turned into a portal;
Seek what is beyond the hands of the immortal.

The breeze is with me I feel your message on my skin.
A realignment, unaltered contemplation in the quiet;
I am walking to mend your broken stagnation. What a riot.

Stopping, pausing, holding, nothing without nothing.
Emerging in the night what was not had in the day;
I graciously hold your screams and whispers, never alone I stay.

There is time, here and there we end but begin again.
I am waiting for you and for you too, can you come back?
I promise to give you a most wonderful snack.

Breathless just so you know, I am emptying the overflow.
Time and time and time again, wiser am I to let go;
Synchronicity you have me, guided, decoded, and now I know.

Thank you to all of you, I see you.
Vibrations higher and higher…clean.
Time is back in motion – going toward I am not green.