God alone knows of all my sorrows,
and He alone discerns my every pain.
God grants to me all my tomorrows,
and at the cross took my sin’s stain.
With burdens heavy I seek one to care,
So looking to him each day I must.
For God alone can my burdens bear,
and only in God do I place my trust.
You can escape reality just for a little while
Leaving your problems for a moment to smile
You lose yourself watching in many hours of bliss
Feeling the movie so much that you can feel that kiss
Scenes of situations that you've known to have
Having tears in your eyes and still manage to laugh
Movies are another world and you choose the city
Different genres to pick because there's so many
Your favorite actors becomes your best friend
While watching movies you mentally play pretend
I'm a movie junkie and I believe this is why
I'm in a world of my own even if it's a lie.
It is a small word
with a big bite,
the worst ever heard;
it is just not polite.
If you could hold it,
it would feel like a ton.
Beware not to use it;
it hurts, even in fun.
It never feels nice.
It should never be heard.
Please take my advice,
and use another word.
You know how it feels
when someone says it to you.
It takes forever to heal,
even though it's not true.
You must not forget.
Never make that mistake.
You will live with regret
if you use the word HATE.
Love walks in like it’s always lived here—
barefoot, unapologetic,
dragging sunlight across the floor like a blanket
it refuses to fold.
It opens all the windows at once,
laughs too loud in the quiet moments,
starts naming the plants even though
they’re probably going to die anyway.
Love doesn’t ask permission.
It rewrites the furniture layout,
puts your favorite song on repeat
and says, “This one. This one forever.”
It leaves tea rings on the table.
It kisses your shoulder in passing.
It forgets the umbrella
but remembers your laugh exactly,
as if it were carved into its palms.
Love is not careful.
It overwaters the basil.
It cries during commercials.
It texts you at 2 a.m. just to say:
I couldn’t sleep. I thought of your face.
It’s ridiculous.
It’s relentless.
It is you,
showing up in everything I touch,
like static,
like sugar,
like I finally understand
what the songs were trying to say
this whole time.
It's one of those days when everything feels like an illusion unraveling at dawn,
Like a dusty road that fades into horizons without destination,
Each step seems futile, and the meaning of life dissolves in the mists of time,
It's just me and the infinite sky, staring aimlessly, as the hours flow like silent rain.
I lose myself in the blue of the sky, seeking no answers, never growing bored,
Like a dreamer caught between worlds, without anchor or compass, just drifting in the ether,
Breathing becomes an effort, as if my soul longs to escape,
To free itself from the cage of flesh, to soar beyond the body's limits.
It's one of those days when I wonder if I’ve ever been whole,
If joy was ever real or just a shadow dancing on the walls of memory,
And in the silence within me, unfulfilled dreams grow like wildflowers in the desert,
Awaiting a rain to transform them into gardens of reborn hope.
My ankles have arthritis
Walking is terrifying
Especially in winter
My asthma is triggered by cold weather
I wear a mask, because it helps me sometimes
Today is not one of those days
I crunch my boots over the icy tundra that is Kansas City
Wishing I was twenty years younger and sixty pounds lighter
My dogs follow me, watching me struggle
I am glad they do not yet know what being old feels like
It is a private hell, both ankles feel like they are broken
My shoulder is sore from a spill I took ten days ago
It feels like I have been run over by a Mack truck
Because I am seventy-two, and out of whack.
Imagine what they must have felt,
Burning in their heart, to melt
Away the bitterness and fears,
All the darkness from past years….
Imagine how their souls were blessed
Could anyone have truly guessed
That silent night, as a star called down
Sprinkling peace all around….
Imagine when the Lord was born,
In a stable, so old and worn,
To a virgin, the mother of love
Mary, who would praise heaven above…
Imagine the songs that were sung,
By startled souls, both old and young,
Kings and peasants, all knew this birth
Answered prayers, bringing heaven to earth…
Imagine the joy that came, overflowing
Through the heart and soul, spirit’s glowing
Reassured by the presence of this King,
The One who caused all the angels to sing….
Imagine the peace, wonder and hope
Falling from the One who taught us to cope,
With the earth’s darkness, pain and fear
All the reasons we praise Him throughout the year….
Imagine a Christmas when we celebrate the One
Who assured us, he’d one day say well done,
Invite us to a home where our soul shall believe,
He is the light who silences doubt on Christmas Eve.
We seek not someone like us, but someone who feels like home,
Someone with whom we can sit in silence, feeling the warmth of their presence,
Someone whose imperfections fit with ours,
With whom we can laugh, be ourselves, and make life shine.
We are not looking for copies of our own faces, but for a heart full of life,
Someone who notices small joys, who would travel far just to see us,
For every moment together is a priceless gift,
A soul that loves each day, sharing our laughter and silences,
Someone who reminds us that love is not a mirror, but a heart that makes us feel alive.
In our silence, we find the warmth of a presence that embraces our soul,
A soul that accompanies us through sunny days and storms,
A heart that beats to the same rhythm of joy and longing,
A refuge of peace and laughter, a light that never fades.
We seek that heart that makes us feel each day is a beginning,
A beginning where love is born from imperfections and completeness,
And where every moment becomes a memory engraved in the infinity of time,
A home of love, where we find ourselves in others,
And where, in the silence of love, we truly feel at home.
Golden leaves
Good senses
Not color blind.
Beauty blend
Green meadows
Crispy air.
Blue sky
Marine life
Flowers field.
Although we’re just moving in,
It feels like we’re lived in these rooms forever.
I can’t look around without the past coming out to play.
These ivy halls are sticky with memories now.
The movers left a while ago and I took a moment to loiter,
on our red corduroy couch, and watch my roommates settling in.
There’s an irony, for me, in the subconscious ways I adapt
to the people who surround me. Whether it’s the way I dress, talk,
laugh, act, or the things I become interested in. There’s no ossifying here.
We’ll pick up our books tomorrow and do some last minute shopping.
I’ll walk out paths to classes. I know the campus but I’m a relentless planner.
Classes start Wednesday, that’s when circumstances will take over -
the schedules and studies - we’ll mold our lives into the larger ecosystem.
.
.
A song for this:
Dreams Via Memories by Ceramic Animal
The Hardest Part by Olivia Dean
The sea is glass
(It feels like my heart)
By Michelle Morris
03/08/2024
The sea is glass
It feels like my heart
The insights that I have
Shatter the illusions and madness
This power that I wield
It's the greatest of shields
It protects me from the globe
Yet subjects me to the whole
For the Universe is vast
And my wisdom is not surpassed
It was given for good reason
Even if I don't understand the freedom
Connection is inevitable between all
Our Universe reminds us not to play small
Soul energies expand and create Light
We're powerful enough to make things right
God and His Angels guide our lives
Casting our anxiety and fear aside
Giving us Hope and Faith every day
Giving us guidance, come what may
The sea may be glass
But soon the wild waves will laugh
For nothing is set in stone
And we are not in this alone
This power that I wield
It's Compassion and Responsibility
My path takes Courage and Faith
God and His Angels guide my way
© Michelle Morris, 2024
have you ever grappled with despair
not in imagery, symbolism or portrayal.
I mean, have you ever felt the elevator drop
the watery weakness that extenuates breath
a depth of fatigue that makes lying on the floor a burden
an aching pounding in your chest,
the broken-glass dryness in your throat
the gritty ache in your eyes
that makes you want to close them forever?
Struggle no more, leaden limbs,
free the weary weight.
Eyes that struggle, release the light.
The body begs to no more fight.
In a blur of sluggish thought,
I whisper sleep's sweet name.
The will has dropped.
The yearning stopped.
I’ll rest on that distant shore.
.
.
Songs for this:
Nessun Dorma by Sarah Brightman
Caruso (Live at "Pavarotti International" Charity Gala Concert, Modena 1992) by Luciano Pavarotti, Aldo Sisilli
Pie Jesu by Andrew Lloyd Webber, Sarah Brightman & Paul Miles-Kingston
When dawn's first light caresses your face,
And dreams linger, refusing to erase.
The world stirs softly, a whispered song,
And you, young woman, find where you belong.
In the mirror’s gaze, a future unfolds,
A tapestry of tales yet to be told.
Each breath you take is a promise kept,
In the silent hours where secrets are slept.
Hope is the thread that winds through your days,
A guiding star in a night’s endless maze.
You dance with shadows, but never in fear,
For strength is born from your every tear.
Your heart, a compass, true and clear,
Navigates oceans both far and near.
In every step, a story lies,
Beneath the expanse of your endless skies.
So, walk boldly, where dreams align,
For a young woman, the world is thine.
Embrace the dawn, and what it brings,
In the symphony of life, spread your wings.
Victor, the VW bus was angry, he had rust on himself now
His owner was unkempt, frowsy, disheveled and frayed.
His house would have been condemned
If he had not hired a maid.
Swirly dress of turquoise waves flipped up water edges
Showing off ocean’s prettiest, frothiest, fanciest lacy petticoat
Appreciated by beach, who felt honored and appreciated
Loving that he was the lone recipient of such beauty this morning
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