JHem

The birds were birds, The trees were trees, And I was Me. But waves came ashore, They were all no more, That much I can be sure. Sheer will burned all form, Yet, why is there this storm? The birds no longer birds, The trees no longer trees, I am no longer me, Or so I thought to be. With heaven here, Giving permission, To envelop all of me. The birds sang as I stepped home, The trees hugging me in their shade, And I'm no longer threatening me. Form had to return, For it to meet it's end, As both burn away as one.

No words I wanted, Only your presence. No words uttered, Yet endless air breathed. No words go past frozen, But touch kindles a blaze. No words tastes as bitter, Than seduction to save thyself. No words a softer lie, Than "stay in my life." No words I've heard more, But "I would never." No words more naked, Yet vulnerability only skin deep. No words to create the world, Only silence before creation.

There was never a time, There was never a place, There is nowhere to run away. Nothing but the inevitable play. Closing off came from grace. Heartbreak wiped away the grime. The escape was held, Thought to be freedom's way, Felt to be pain unending. The yearning asked for resolution. Screaming "are you paying attention?" The very desire seen to be dis-ease. Poison is the medicine asking, "please." Venom pushed away seen as pure. Nothing else felt so sure. Problems no longer became a list, As spirit felt became bliss. But the ailment of yours, Was where I closed my doors. Oh, humanity. For what are thou to me, When you became my enemy? Up here high on heaven, Watching over the earth, Judging all action as sin. Yearning for birth again. Returning back to Samsara, Truly knowing it to be Nirvana. And knowing deep down, this is Love. Feeling deep in the Heart, with a Sincere "I'm sorry," knowing there's nothing to Forgive. Nothing could be but the I...

A rug was put beneath For ground to be walked. My feet forced its shake. Only for grace to pull it away. To reveal nothing. Disoriention or heaven?

 I close my hand mirror after a treacherous morning priming myself for self-beautification. "Today's my day," I affirm to let assuredness override hesitanceness. My hair patted down after rinsing excess conditioner, I run my hands through its soft marshmallow texture. "She'll get a touch of the clouds as my hair brushes against her," I whisper to myself. I make sure to wear light and bright; it'll draw her gaze like a moth to a flame. I contrast my turquoise polo shirt with black jeans so she knows I have depth. But this isn't enough. I have to leave her breathless. A gentle dab of Pond Leaf clenching my neck is how I'll shake her knees to follow. I reveal myself by closely passing her as she waits in line for her morning Golden Latte, making sure the heavenly touch of my hair coyly caresses the back of her neck as I do so. "Ah, I'm sorry. My hair goes a little wild when they see what they want." I press my fawning eyes into her min...

I've held a million different hands. Each drawn from a special texture. Each sparked with their own heat. I wished to believe I was being guided, But maybe my hand was being pulled. I sought them out to not freeze in winter. But by grace I reached my hand to it's ice. My fingers sank into the cold. They warmed up to it's chills, As if they were held themselves By home long forgotten, by me.

Even before my mouth can bend air, There's a "yes" that came even before. I held my own hand through the dark So my own warmth became my light. I had no reason to dabble in what's fair. My thoughts let go of my head to freefall. The pillow became the goal of my mark. No whispers saying "you're not right." My fingers slipped the book holding on. Looking back was the moonflower foretold. Magic trapped me as we touched Before I could even point. I knew with just a whiff, My smile reflected its, Fully knowing so.