The dew isn't frozen for a change,
each step leaves a dark hole,
a trail to my soggy shoes.
Once again,
I stand at the old wooden shed door
with a bent, rusty key
that no longer turns the stuck lock.
It would be easy to break in.
Inside,
the axe,
the scythe,
the shears,
all in need of sharpening.
I'm not ready yet.
I painted the dance floor with the strongest
smile, because I had no choice but to move.
Close
closer
shoulder to shoulder..
I went a little crazy just to take in your aura,
that energy controlling all of the fire in you.
Shoulder to shoulder
closer
impossibly close..
I channeled that song to capture a spark
and maybe dive in and go for your heart.
Loud
louder
heartbeats slam like a drummer.
Hitting my soul and demanding that I ask
‘Your moves beg me to run your red light.
What the hell is your sign?’
The beautiful impossible motion,
can we see, feel, touch motion?
No,
we see, feel, touch the results of motion.
Motion stands still,
until we use it.
We humans have no motion until we move,
walking, running, or maybe dancing.
Even weather has no motion,
until it speaks.
The winds blow with motion,
we then see the leaves move.
Everything starts out with no motion,
moving gives motion to the movement.
We can not see, feel or touch motion,
yet we can see, feel, touch motion in action.
What a wonderful impossible thing motion has been.
the ocean at night
my baby in pregnancy
everyday life
This Moment
Silence echoes a hum: listening for a whisper in static.
That rests away beyond the mountain path, at waterfalls,
Edge. While moving back and forth, in a loss for a listener.
Muteness then becomes obscure.
On the shore that was silent;
As silence in sounds now echoed, but only felt.
Softly in the atmosphere.
Became more curious while anticipating even the faintest
White noise. In search of a hidden cove.
Dotting between places unusually.
In that moment, imagine, imagine!
If you could?
Simulated realms appear between sounds and air.
Inner motion, it's like kissing someone else, or what remains.
Memories of those soundscapes while embracing a new soundscape.
To this moment, it's quiet.
Om is the eternal gong,
that carries spirit along,
fixating our attention
in all-time meditation.
Even when we lose focus,
we flow along the locus
of magnetism within form,
silent thunder, a bliss storm.
The initiation done,
by the light that lights the sun,
we gently metamorphose,
whilst poised in blissful repose.
Deep wisdom unfolds in time,
as we bloom betwixt love’s chime;
our unvoiced prayer, God hears,
Who by His hand our life steers.
For those tough days and nights...
Life is a miracle in motion
By Michelle Morris
14/06/2026
There are going to be days
When you want to walk away
There are going to be nights
When you'll feel less calm, more frightened
There are going to be times
When you doubt the reason and rhymes
There are going be moments
When you feel your glow slow
But don't despair, dear heart
Don't despair — not now, not ever
Don't despair, dear heart
God is with you through stormy weather
Life is a complex mystery
Life is a wish for ease
Life is triumphs and mistakes
Life is loss and lucky breaks
Life is a miracle in motion
Life is ever-changing like the ocean
Life is growth and elevation
Life is a blessing for every nation
So, don't give, now, dear heart
Don't give up — not now, not ever
Don't give up, dear heart
God is beside you with every step
There are going to be days
There are going to be nights
But what remains even more constant
Is God's precious light
© Michelle Morris, 2026
One joyful footstep
loosens procrastination
morning air tastes sweet
the mind keeps that light aglow
long after the walk has passed
Pleasure leaves a trace
on shoes waiting by the door
soft invitations
before thought can intervene
habit heeds motion's call
Inner loops turning—
unconscious desires take root
deep beneath reason
each fond spark of exercise
trains the nerves to yearn return
Laughter after strain
widens the spirit's landscape
breath steadies the mind
small victories slowly build
through patience and resilience
Outer loops rising
gather strength from calm delight
builds hope through movement
each glad act enlarges life
as wellness echoes health back
No harsh discipline—
only the pull of feelings
gently repeated
what once needed force and will
becomes enlightened desire
“Ballet is a psalm, a form of worship and a sacred dance between the ballerina and God.” quote by prima ballerina, Ann Etgen-Atkinson.
She enters where the soft light waits
and feels its hush draw near her soul
as silence opens her inner gates.
Her *turnout forms a gentle whole,
a yielding shaped by quiet trust
that steadies her in sacred role.
Her center holds a tender must,
a call to rest in God’s soft breath
letting her striving turn to dust.
Her lines extend beyond the death
of fear or haste or earthly claim
leaning toward Love under’eth.
She moves within His whispered Name~
her steps a psalm of lifted flame.
*Turnout in ballet refers to the outward rotation of the legs from the hips, which allows dancers to achieve greater extension and maintain balance during movements. It is a fundamental aspect of ballet technique that enhances the aesthetic quality of the dance. (Source Wikipedia.com)
( Homage to Emily Bronte “Spellbound”)
Although I feel the night is wrapped around me
And the tyrant descends to let in the cold
Although the pines no longer block the glare
And malignant beams enter into Morpheus’ cave
Although everything is bowed down with ice and snow
And clouds stand stationary above the waste below
Although near voices speak with insane passion
And even the cats cover their ears and run away
Although I have endured much and have overcome
And the arrogant and ignorant still reign in their fashion
Although we wait with patience for our authority
And the last farthing will soon be paid
I cannot move, I will not move, I cannot go
I cannot rise above and be no more and here.
The Only One
Motionless moments,
Unfading scenes,
Dreams that refuse to depart,
Flowers that never bloom.
A world that does not turn,
Wine that has lost its taste,
Endless longings,
Poems that will not reveal their meaning.
My fingers write and write—
Yet the silent veena I do not touch.
“Play,” it cries,
“Let music rise!”
That music alone
Set me into motion.
I walk and walk,
Yet the road does not grow shorter;
Weariness grows with every step,
And stretching my tired limbs,
I seek a place to rest.
Wherever I pause,
Carved paintings of exquisite beauty appear;
But I do not sit—
I lose myself
In their silent splendor.
With both eyes
Filled with the beauty of Kasini,
When I open them—
There is no world,
No time,
No poetry…
Mr. Motion Man Preparation packed plan Coolest cat of the clan Baddest bro back but just began Jeopardize the job in Japan Demon dude on demand Can't forget about his friend Dan Who is his biggest fan And smokes tobacco out of a can And sits on the beach to tan Like he was sitting in a frying pan But wait he just got up and ran
Shift in place,
Move still while keeping silent.
Deafening screams locked behind teeth
Some profound rage kept from an
Ineffable target.
Held In place,
By un-moving days.
Simmering at the surface.
Hidden by the stoic face.
Waiting for the instance,
When the world will cease the snail's pace.
Primed for even a sliver of movement.
So it may strike a hand into the stream.
As time rushes by, finding its mark.
An object to direct that malice towards.
Expelling the poison that has accumulated.
Worsening with every breakfast and dinner.
Despite the mania it brings,
And injuries I inflict.
It is cathartic.
A moment of motion
Is better than a life of stillness.
You are my poetry in motion.
And just like the rivers that flow into the expansion of the oceans, I am drawn to you.
Take me on a journey of how you see the world well beyond the horizon.
Give me permission to inhale the very essences of what you embody,
so I can experience the high of what it would feel like to have you running through my veins.
Grant me entry into your heart that I can only assume will be nothing less than a romantic symphony, enabling our souls to dance together.
Let me witness what ignites the fire of your dreams, giving me a front row seat to your aspirations.
Allow me to travel throughout the highways of your thoughts and embrace the uniqueness of how you think.
You see, to me, you are as beautiful as the sounds of birds chirping in the morning,
as endearing as a forehead kiss,
and more radiant than the sun itself.
For without a doubt — alluring,
like a blossoming bed of roses kissed by the fallen rains of spring.
You in that red dress,
not just beautiful, pure perfection.
I can’t help but smile and say,
“There goes Sal, my beautiful girl.”
The way you carry yourself
bold, confident, and effortlessly divine.
In just a blink, you steal the moment,
and from a distance, I can only admire,
wishing I was there, matching your fire
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