My heart longs to be free

Heartache after heartache

Washing over me

The recurring ones

deepening the ones new to me

While my heart longs to be free

Of living with regret or pain in me

It is those lessons which seed the depth to see

But yet every day a struggle to let go of what is and isn't meant to be

To just breathe

and live in peace

Allowing being in ease

In equilibrium with the waves caressing me

Not there to torment me

Loves formed

Teasing me

with the time I spend waiting for the

While the gift given tossed away

Even when seen

why held at bay?

Man and woman scared everyday

Conditioned even more to run

rather then towards, away

People like bedsheets

Exchanged in a twisted game

One more used then the other

Replaced by ones safe and not a threat to bother

the Rythm one is stagnated and shielded in

The fortress build to protect the soul rather then a vessel to hold.

To form a stream, a lake, an ocean, the sky and the Earth, open to receive

what could make life worthwhile to conceive

But instead the bedsheets given in life's dowry.

Thrown away

In thought that something better, more

could come your way

Instead of treasuring and carefully washing, mending the fabric,

Which could endure and rejoice to carry and give to you everyday

No

Wasted

Not washed again by a tender hand

Able to comprehend the value lying at hand.

If not known or even if known,

that which is able to love, support and care for you

Instead Torn apart or stained

Too scared to surrender and to commit

But rather adding fame

to societies game of shame.

abused

Refused

Not tenderly washed and cradled

for Skin on skin to caress again

To be honoured

held in an embrace of infinity

where one always meets;

The love which nurtures you

through and through

Instead the memories and gifts

The most intimate held at bay.

Blocked to return one day, destined to decay.

what is and is not meant to be.

Just the pain in my soul the ridicule

The pain that you did not want me.

While you are the most precious to me

I a gift not wanted by the

Instead tossed in the sea

Exposed to the waves washing over me

Cleansing me

Curing the anger about humanity.

Till in one haven I will land

Softer to the touch through the elements of life and memory

Radiating like a slumbering Jewel inside a rock

Waiting for you to be caressing me

Awakening me

Giving me the opportunity

To be the fundament I was born to be

The Call of the Earth

Origins of scent,

in my garden.

Tantalizing the swaying breeze,

rustling in the leaves of walnut, willow, palm, plum, magnolia and bamboo trees.

The calls of birds,

hawks to hummingbirds.

Rhythms of fanning wings, melodic to the heartbeat of the graspable spring's quiete gurgling nurture.

The shadows of the night still breathing a cooling kiss before the coming heat of the day.

The smells crisp,

some dormant waking up from the sun.

Sung alive in ancient patterns,

nature's melodies, woven in the dance of birth and decay.

Layers intermingling, versatile varying volumes of cells threading crescendos for the senses.

Ebbs and flows tracing the tread.

Murmurs, choruses of calls,

elements speaking, to the fruits from the seeds we are reaping.

The echo of the flora and fauna,

the cradle to the footstep seen in the micro to the macro,

of the transcendent surrounding,

a reflection.

At peace,

prospering in hope and in spite of philosophical wars polluting the worth of our world.

Just listening and responding

With the call of the earth.

Today another day starts

Today another day starts

Another hour

Another moment

To be embraced

To be understood

To not be mistaken for the projection of oneself one is escaping

Right now

Is the beginning

Of the unnamed infinite inning

The state of bliss

Is when you seize to resist

When you give chance a kiss rather then to dismiss

To open ones soul

To surrender with the whole

With the senses with which one is capable of seeing

Seeding the reapings of the future we want to hold

Protecting the nature which provides what we know

Saving Us from becoming the dust of our own creation

Turning the fate of our own damnation