Under That Same Tree

The pause is long enough to fit,
sixteen breaths, a yawn and a rush.
The breeze pushes to accelerate,
the steps of love, the mind is mush.

Approached with care, she sits
beside the woman with gray hair.
Calmer weather now, the love
has made its way into the air.

Listening and offering warmth
the only antidote for worry,
she watches the clouds as they pass
not one of them is in a hurry.

The loving soul who was there first,
took you under her wing and did,
what we are here to do and to be,
like family we all exist under that same tree.

Movement was a bit of a struggle,
so we called for more love
to come to our aid to provide some shade,
and it was a lovely cool break to lean on a new dove.

When we are entrenched inside the light,
we know and we see so brightly it shines,
from one to another, we swim in delight,
because without the braces it can be difficult to fight.

The energy will command you to slow,
even when you are blinded inside,
the flow – it has a way you know,
to send you messages in such a way, to abide.

One more step, one more breath,
there will always be love and change,
but we are nothing without breakage
and repair to remind us of our range.

Have thanks and gratitude for the gift
of your life. We came here in search
of a human experience and to broaden our light,
to soften the blows of those, and to uplift.

The trip was short we made it home,
with the help of the three wise men,
they brought love, kindness, compassion
and supplies to help us and for that, I give them a ten.

We are all under that same tree,
waiting, watching, listening,
loving, building, dreaming, singing,
dancing and laughing; it’s all that there is, you see?

Let Me Love

Maybe we fall in love because we are supposed to break and have destroyed the person we used to be. Maybe we ought to run towards love precisely because, it might destroy us. And not just run towards love for the ordinary reasons of wanting to feel seen, appreciated, desired and cared for. Maybe we are supposed to throw our hearts out there as often as possible when opportunity arises instead of running from love and protecting our hearts. There is a far greater purpose in love than we ever realized I think, and we can’t reach this transformative realization until a period of complete destructive emotional collapse occurs.

Maybe the very nature of having loved is the process to enlightenment, growth, and the shedding of a layer that wasn’t supposed to be there forever.

The lessons, the difficulties, a wreckage of a part of ourselves that needed to be dismantled for good. Never to be the same person again, except now, that person today…an exponentially higher, stronger and more beautiful and powerful person than ever before.

The gifts of love and of loss, a personal gift to our sense of self that is completely aligned with our evolution. And even if the Universe could prevent it, it still would ensure your heart experienced the amount of demolition necessary in order to be reborn into the shining star that’s been there all along but just hadn’t yet reached that level of break in order to achieve the ultimate break-through.

Maybe being a love addict isn’t that bad. We are addicted for a reason, and that reason is always taking us closer to ourselves, raising our vibration so we radiate more and more within and outwards, so when people see us, meet us, hear us, touch us, they receive the love that is in ever abundance within us, that we carry always.

If someone is starved for love, I truly believe that eventually, the Universe will send them a special soul who has so much love, extra love to spare, so that that person’s empty and dry cup is finally able to be replenished.

Love is always the answer. Radical, messy, patient, unconditional love. No matter who you love, why you love, how you love, where you love, the purpose is just to…do it.

We are here to love and that’s it. Not to achieve, not to impress, not to harm, not to graduate with honours, not to win the most games, not to perform or to please, not to buy or sell the most stuff, not to show off, not to follow the leader, not to land the dismount, not to change what we look like, not to shoot for fame, not to climb the ladder, not to see the world.

The world is here to see us. To see us give love, receive love, to be destroyed and resurrected by love, and to never stop.

A Certain Kind of Solitude

A certain kind of solitude my soul requires.
Silent but full of sound. Quietly loud.
A way for the mind to rest among raging fires.
The burden of people, is it shameful? I am sometimes not proud.

Proud I am though of what I know of what I need.
It’s simple and beautiful and kind and uncluttered.
It’s pure, honest, a chosen loneliness, my good deed.
The seagulls arrive, the crows walk with me, the wings they are fluttered.

Water is a sacred vessel, a portal, a connection to the divine.
My spirit swims and dances and forges a path against the grind.
Leave your words inside, don’t clutter my mind, I resign.
Hydrated with silence, not isolation, not fearful avoidance, but a found that I always find.

To watch the leaves, to sing with the sea, to listen to animals.
Have you heard the voice of an orca, the greeting of a feline, the dialogue of a goose?
The creatures that delight us, teach us, need us, require so minimal.
When you strip it down, let it go, stop asking, stop waiting, stop talking, stop needing, that’s the juice.

Take a walk, call yourself on the phone, talk to her, listen to her, be her hero.
A certain kind of solitude holds no mystery, no questions, requires no logic.
To share and bring forth the gifts from within: abandon the recipe, begin with zero.
Depletion is mended by repletion from the elements, the true magic.

Do not tell me when you have never been keen. You can never know what has never been.
Push to fill a space and a hole that was never meant to be filled.
The hole is beauty, it’s sacrifice, it’s bold, it’s a story that is deserved to be seen.
The comfort in a space so vibrant, so sure, so opposing, it is warm and never chilled.

No more apologies, time to raise the vibration and take the leap.
The song my heart sings breaks the heart of the ones who’ve tried to listen.
Leave me to my open windows, breezes, sunsets, cats, books, my friends who help me sleep, the sheep.
Caring so deeply, giving so much, my heart knows nothing but to glisten.

But for that I need to awaken, to rest my feet, to hear less the opinion.
To be surrounded by clouds and tides, less footsteps and pride.
The device is soon to be forgotten, but I am still a civilian.
Inside a place where fog meets ship, clear the passage, I do not hide.