Roads long squandered,
Routes trained to memory.
a crack in the long unyielding concrete
unremarkable.
Then, a wildflower
A peculiar pink.
Leather, nostalgia.
Cinnamon, mellow.
Stop dead in my tracks,
Wistful, yearn.
Many a while did I dream of creation
After all, what does it take?
Soil, water, an undefeated soul.
Many a while did I long for something that called me God.
Many a while did I pick up a pen,
Dropped it back down.
Afraid of laughter no one laughed,
Fearing fingers yet unpointed.
What does it mean to begin?
What does it take to begin?
Paper, ink, a sliver of hope.
Do I have what it takes to begin?
Now every new page,
A breath of awakening
In a book awaiting it's soul.
A step, far from empty pages.
Albeit one, this stride
holds strength of lifetimes far spent.
And as I sit, winds of change,
Of beginning, blowing through my hair finally let down.
A start.
Breaking apart the shackle that is anticipation.
Everything goes, and so will this fear.
And as my soul, my blood, my sweat, my tears, I wring into form,
Perhaps,
I have what it takes to begin.
Categories:
unpointed, appreciation, aubade, beautiful, change,
Form: Free verse
Mirror of the Great Invisible Spirit
A globe of faces radiant with life
A crystal ball with every colour in it
A house of souls united without strife
A kingdom made of perfect pearls without cracks
With intellectual mind anointed
So that his gold splendour will reign and relax
For the mirror to birth rays unpointed
Of every colour and face for the Spirit
Categories:
unpointed, creation, light, mirror, philosophy,
Form: Rhyme