One day we all die. All that remains are the photos and memories. Perhaps a person could write it all down and leave something of themselves behind; their thoughts, their memories. And in their written thoughts, perhaps "Love" is eventually understood and found. One day we all die. We all die one day. I shall ghost with the best of them ... a very ghostly ghost.(LadyLabyrinth/Leanne Lovejoy-Burton)
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Some things can never be forgiven. Forgiving yourself for not forgiving, is enough forgiveness. (LadyLabyrinth/Leanne Lovejoy-Burton)
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Witches were once burnt at the stake for being something other than who they truly were, at the hands of people, who were less than noble in mind and more sullied. (LadyLabyrinth/Leanne Lovejoy-Burton)
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Love cradles Sorrow for a while, comforting it in its arms, stroking it like a pet to be controlled, adored and loved, until Love realises that Sorrow needs free range to express itself. Eventually like all wild things, Sorrow needs to be released, to be transformed into something higher and more hauntingly beautiful. (Leanne Lovejoy-Burton as LadyLabyrinth)
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Love opens the door to and for Sorrow. The choice is Sorrow’s direction. Of course, interpretation is also poetically open, dear Poet. From observation, like Love, Sorrow adores company, like Love, Sorrow is not averse to sharing its cage with numbers of other Sorrows, all requiring to be fed, they eventually have their fill and leave, spreading their wings for Lighter realms.(Leanne Lovejoy-Burton as LadyLabyrinth)
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Love invites Sorrow in, to feed its hunger, quench its thirst...Sorrow has been sorely deprived of succour and unconditional nurture in most states of distress, sadness, betrayal, rejection, hurt, loss, grief (are only but a few called by name)...when Sorrow is well fed, and transfiguring into its better, higher lighter form, the captive/s eventually are let loose - it is Sorrow's choice of course, whether Sorrow stays or goes. (Leanne Lovejoy-Burton as LadyLabyrinth)
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The Light and the Dark of it. Some people will go to extraordinary measures for redemption. Some people go to extraordinary lengths for Love. Some will call it courage. Others will denigrate the truth of the fall in delivery as foolish. There are benefits to falling, to the breaking: beginning, middle, end. If not the whole, you cannot see but a part of yourself in others, then there is something vitally humane missing in you. You are "Godless".No matter how clean and worthy you deem yourself.
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Creativity, is a beautiful thing, when it comes from the heart, light and dark, glued back together with poetry. Love.
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We are all books, poems, songs, abstract and not so abstract art walking, the pages and chapters immersive and crowded.
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"The walls are not falling like Jericho, they are dissolving; brick by brick. Beyond the purple haze, a golden place."
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We are not our souls, we are envelopes. Some remain unopened, some opened and delivered. Some clearly marked, "Return to Sender".
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"I will never murder my little darlings. I shall put them on a pedestal and feed them LOVE." (LadyLabyrinth/Leanne Lovejoy-Burton)
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At some point, you have to let go of the “value” of how other people see you, for if you do not, it is at great personal cost to yourself – I say this with 'some' wisdom and further contemplation, that in doing all this, you are not harming another living human being or creature.
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Life and death. We are on loop. Many of us are surviving our own breech birth, after initial entry, in mysterious ways. Eventually, whatever the play or cost, light appears in one form or another. Much Love. Because Love is all that matters in this world for humanity to make Light, see Light. And that is what this world and humanity needs most. (Leanne Lovejoy-Burton as LadyLabyrinth)
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Creatives I Admire (Part 1) - The writers and creatives I gravitate to, are those who have been driven to the depths of despair, experienced the greatest pain on many levels (physical and emotional), have survived to share with us their experiences, whether they are cast as outsiders or received as enfant terrible geniuses and welcomed by society with open arms (while many of those creatives such as those I speak of, shun those open arms).
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Creatives I Admire (Part 2) - Those creatives who have experienced, 'going over the edge', have plummeted to the depths of despair, loneliness, emotional and physical pain, are the ones who have the greatest appreciation for beauty and love, and an understanding of the cost paid for loss; and while some do not survive the plunge, their experiences make us understand what it truly is to be ‘human’. Those are the writers/creatives who I gravitate to and admire.
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a pen dipped in blood as is a robe so writes a mind now is unrobed
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Butterflies are the souls of caterpillars, they are borne from the inside out, they last for only a short while to start their hurricanes, to leave their beautiful imprint on their new world, before they leave to regenerate again in another place;
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if one butterfly could flutter its wings to set molecules of air in motion, to move other molecules of air, to eventually start just one hurricane - just imagine what a legion of butterflies could achieve with their vibrations raising each other and all that is good in ‘being’ to higher levels to transform each other.
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Through chaos, great change occurs. It gets worse before it gets better. Butterflies are fragile, but they are the souls of caterpillars, strong enough to wave their messages of rebirth through. Don’t get me started on Bees. Love. Joy. Be.
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That girl she is hell bent. That girl she is hell bent on reaching heaven. That girl she is a message of love rolled up in ash, smoking hot, she’s still glowing. Light bulb brain, like a genie...rub. 3 wishes - come, undone. Light and Dark is a mysterious thing. Light bulb brain, like a genie...rub. 3 wishes. That girl is hell bent.
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...one day we all die, we all must leave something of our love behind for those who need our love the most ... time is a precious commodity, stolen and squandered by the injustices and untruths of life.
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Love like an ocean is mercurial. Subject to changing constancy; underneath the waves, in the deepest bed lies true love, watching us tread water, waiting for us to turn late or early, it does not matter; we dive deeper to find its arms open, ready to envelop us. We go searching for pearls, drowning in it all, treasure like wisdom to be found.
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Life above the waves, Blue Sky reflects light, deeper than we care to admit. Sun and gold found in the unlikeliest depths, lighting up all dimensions. And we rise. Eventually.
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Love always calls us in. Unexpected, abrupt or not - the exit...the entrance, Love always calls us back in. (Leanne Lovejoy-Burton/aka Lady Labyrinth).
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We don't write words. We don't paint words. We eat words. Writers, Poets, the Reader, the Inquisitive. The more hungry, the more words eaten. What evolves is the lesson emanating from what is regurgitated. Too full up. After all is said ... and done...do words mean a jot? When the other chapter opens, and the old closes. Sense kicks in.
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"Listening is all well and good", she said. "Watch and learn, read between the lines; Morse Code, a gift of Love - for you," she said.
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Colours dance before our eyes, starbursts take us up and down through tunnels rollercoaster rides home - sex, love, birth, death, all through spectral colours, life sensual senses something electric, close and far away, in the green and blue dance.
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My God is a poet singing me home with their genderless pronouns, sticky love like blood tar the tears in my eyes the black heart is fixed on, feeling the sum of the parts, communion is served best without - heavy armour worn gospels, the insides torn, turned out.
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"'Choices' are the tokens that take us to places perhaps we never wished we'd visited, but we leave with greater knowledge and a firmer and clearer understanding of ourselves and the truth of it all. We are a book of life constantly re-editing our pages and at the root of it all, we rely on our internal compass - for some, this is an elusive marker to locate, but eventually it is found. Never judge a book by its cover."
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