The Final Step

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They say I am an odd one

Never fitting the square hole

Dismissive, and done

 

They say I am disconnected

Alienated to the world

Maybe mentally affected

 

Yet I am only this

Seeing beyond the words

Never a detail do I miss

 

And I love this world

Never so connected

The foundation unfurled

 

Every moment

I live to the last

Never did I own it

 

I used to see

I used to know

I used to watch

 

A simple shift

From watching

To being

 

One step

Forward

Now I am

 

(Stoic)

 

 

 

 

 

Seeds

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In secret places seeds may fall
Fertile soil beyond the wall
Planted in time they will grow
Yet we may never know
 
Anger’s weeds are fast to bloom
Fear allows the growing room
Shame to feed the subtle shoots
Pride digs deep its roots
 
Slowly sometimes roses bloom
Pushing up from the tomb
Vines climb from deep within
Atop a wall to begin again
 
Stoic

This Mirror

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The glass is not the best quality

Imperfections are not few

Distortions may be fun for a time

But not when taken as true

 

Reflection can be a good thing

Just not when solely without

Within the truth may be seen

Beyond is in shadows doubt

 

This mirror that we look upon

Filtered through eyes of the past

Shows us what we want to see

A reality that simply won’t last

 

 

The Dream

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The dream is of one, gentle and kind

Full of compassion and care

Without ever looking will find

One who has always been there

 

Fortunes will come, and surely go

Castles will crumble in time

Life’s  pendulum swings to and fro

As everything tends to decline

 

The dream is of one, it will always remain

Never diminished, never lost

Awake or asleep are one and the same

Until the final boundary is crossed

In Dreams

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There was a dream where I was happy,

In love; alive.

As I clung to you, the sense of the outside calling,

I slept.

A memory of something before this,

a soft voice behind me,

Whispers, reminding me, “awake, see what is here,”

the dream fades.

With fresh eyes open to see, you were never you,

and I was never this.

 

Day and Night

 

 

This vaguest feeling of seeing,

only what you want me to see,

beyond this misty veil,

I sense there is more for me.

 

The slightest glimpse from the corner,

of my eye I sometimes see,

but when I turn it fades to gray,

a trick of light, it may be.

 

In dark of night, eyes open wide,

beyond the veil I see,

what daylight hides, in plain sight,

Slicing the veil, lucid and free.

 

Stoic