I am not your possession​

I am not your possession.

You cannot own me.

I am not a book, a company, an idea, or even money.

I am not yours to have.

 

Look away with that eye of greed.

Glance it elsewhere

at someone or something

that glances back.

You cannot look me in the eye.

 

Let me be

in my innocence of desire.

You seek

to poison and impoverish me.

 

I am not your possession.

You cannot own me.

I am not a car, a boat, a place, or even a house.

I am not yours to have.

 

There, over there.

The one that dares

to look me in the eye.

To peer deep

and sees

my secret beauty

hidden deep beneath.

 

Let me be

with truth, courage, and expectation.

To see me in true light.

Who seeks

to know my nature, destiny,

and my inborn divinity.

 

Full of invitation, possibility, and depth.

 

But, not you.  No, not you.

 

I am not your possession.

 

 

The wound of mortality

You carry it.

I carry it.

We all carry it.

Deep in our heart

lie the wound of

mortality.

 

We try

to cover it with a blanket of skin,

but

no matter how much we try,

no wound is ever silent.

 

Beyond that fair exterior,

I feel the tremble

of your wound,

just as you feel the

tremble of mine.

 

You carry it.

I carry it.

We all carry it.

Deep in our heart

lie the wound of

mortality.

 

For one brief moment,

the sacred enters in

knowing exactly where our pain lay.

 

And, in that moment,

the divine light heals

your soul,

my soul,

as it gently weeps.

 

You carry it.

I carry it.

We all carry it.

Deep in our heart

lie the wound of

mortality.

 

For each of us,

the voice is different,

from a time when we were

damaged

or

wronged.

It evades time

and

analysis.

 

Only with waiting,

as with all great arrivals

in the soul,

healing comes from a place

we never predicted nor

anticipated.

 

Silently waiting for its time.

 

As your soul gently weeps,

as my soul gently weeps,

no wound ever remains silent.

A celebration.

I celebrate you.

You celebrate me.

I celebrate you.

 

My heart celebrates all that is you.

Your heart celebrates all that is me.

We celebrate each other.

 

Take me

and

dance

and sing.

 

Take me

and

lift

my

soul

heavenward.

 

Lift me high, high, high

to where

the lovely light

of the eternal will

enrapture me.

 

I celebrate you.

You celebrate me.

I celebrate you.

 

I recognize you.

You delight me.

You recognize me

I delight you.

 

Take me

and let’s

dance and sing

in this moment

of actuality

down, down, down

nourishing

the deep dark

recesses of my soul.

 

I celebrate you.

You celebrate me.

I celebrate you.

 

My heart celebrates all that is you.

Your heart celebrates all that is me.

We celebrate each other.

 

A blessing, a gift.

My heart is content.

I lie still in gratitude.

 

Together, we have painted a picture

of belonging.

 

Celebrate!

 

A Nomadic Soul.

Deep inside lies a nomadic soul.

You see one facade.

The one for the world to consume.

To laugh, and joke, and cajole.

 

Deep inside lies a nomadic soul.

What is visible is not what lies deeply hidden.

Conformity in a world that demands uniformity.

To think, and to feel, and to be the same.

 

Deep inside lies a nomadic soul.

What is visible remains consistent.

It is only what you want to see.

To be the same at work, the same at home, the same with friends.

 

Deep inside lies a nomadic soul.

Longing for inner voyages that no one would ever guess.

Only my heart knows where it must go.

To meet its longing, to feel its beat, to be different.

 

Deep inside lies a nomadic soul.

Desperately seeking to answer an ancient call.

Full of creativity and imagination.

To dream, to bless, to be called.

 

Deep inside lies a nomadic soul.

Reaching out into the distance my soul aches

to unite with whatever or whomsoever

its desire it evokes.

Deep inside lies a nomadic soul.

Distant and apart from who I am outwardly

feeling the separation from the absence

of light and luminosity missing.

 

 

While I live in this world

of social this and social that,

my heart is in exile.

Wildly misunderstood

in a world that seeks not to understand.

 

Deep down …

lies an old nomadic soul.

 

 

In the shelter of my soul.

 

In the shelter of my soul, I find peace.

In a world that knows no boundaries,

I go inward.

 

In the shelter of my soul, I find familiarity.

In a world that is deep and cold,

I go inward.

 

In the shelter of my soul, I find belonging.

In a world that has no frames or frontiers,

I go inward.

 

In the shelter of my soul, I find you.

In a world full of anonymity,

I find a like echo in the intimacy

of the other.

 

My mid-life desires

In mid-life, I long to inhabit my own dignity.

To wear it like a presence unknown.

 

The way I walk, the way I hold myself, the way that I sit, and speak or not.

 

In mid-life, I finally want to come into my own.

To wear my dignity with ease and composure.

 

The way that I look at you, hear you, and talk about you or not.

 

In mid-life, I desire to be respected and honored all for who I am.

To wear my self-esteem with confidence and brilliance.

 

The way that I look at myself with affection, understanding, and respect.

 

In mid-life, I no longer want to look out there for me, but deep within.

To honor my self, and to love who I am with concern and worthiness like a lover loves his love.

 

In mid-life, I want to bloom into the grace and graciousness that is all mine to claim.

To look deep into my heart and embrace the love and light that shines for all those who seek.

 

In mid-life, I want to wear my spirit held deep within, as my outer cloak, never to be robbed of again, only to be held like a precious gem.

 

In mid-life, I finally want to belong to myself letting my soul sing freely to you.

 

 

 

I am anxious, I am scared.

I am anxious, I am scared.

My soul trembles deep within, my confidence escapes.

 

I am anxious, I am scared.

I know not what lies ahead of me, only behind.

 

I am anxious, I am scared.

I live in an interim period of what is between.

 

I am anxious, I am scared.

I feel no humor or sense of irony about me.

 

I am anxious, I am scared.

I wait each day for a coming liberation to free me.

 

I am anxious, I am scared.

One day soon, I will stop the punishment and smile.