Tag: poetry

Morning Painting

Morning Meds; 10 4 21

I painted a picture as I awoke.

I painted it with thought.

I used the palette from yesterday

filled with stale paint.

Spoke it to life with my belief

that this day would be the same.

Having finished it with fine detail

I blindly stepped inside.

Not realizing that what I had painted,

was where I would spend my day.

(Our thoughts become the landscape we choose to live our lives in.)

Limits

Morning Meds; 10 4 19

When we think we have reached our limit, we are usually right, at least momentarily.

The good news is that we are the one who sets the limits.

We are limitless creatures of light, the only boundaries to our potential are our beliefs in limitation.

If we look back through our lifes, at other points where we thought we had reached our limit, we were always greater than what we believed ourselfs to be.

Infinite possibility leaves a lot of wiggle room to find a way to continue.

Not Bound

Morning Meds; 10 4 18

Three part harmony.

Opinion often masquerades as truth. Not everything I was taught as a youth, was true. My instructors taught me with my best interest at heart. I send them love for their concern for my spiritual welfare.

1.

I would rather believe I am clinging than to believe I am bound.

2.

A birds feet are designed like a clothes pin, when relaxed, they grip. The bird must make a conscious effort to release and fly.

We are not bound.

for

boundage presumes victimism, whereas clinging, presumes free will. We cling to old beliefs sometimes out of fear. We like a bird must choose to let go.

3.

A locked room can be a prison or a sanctuary, it depends on our perspective. We are always able to change perspectives. We are as free as we choose to believe.

Searching For More Time

Morning Meds; 10 3 21

I wished to journey this morning,

just take a little spin.

Send out a bit of my essence,

my consciousness embracing silence.

Separating, like fragrance exiting a flask,

to drift unencumbered on etheric winds.

Our lives are so busy, so many things we wish to do.

Desires, wants and wishes,

pile up like driftwood,

caught by time’s ceaseless flow.

I wished to journey to where time sets it’s pace,

in hopes to catch a break.

Not finding a location,

assuming I had gotten lost,

I silently inquired of it’s whereabouts

and this was the reply.

Time has no special place,

it sets it’s pace in you.

It’s one of your illusions.

Without your illusion, it doesn’t exist.

It’s speed is set by your concerns.

If you feel your being robbed of it, it will fly right by.

If you feel you have to wait, it crawls at a glaciers pace.

You see it as a clock,

the mirrored image of

a planet circling a sun,

steadily spinning to dualities rhythm,

ticking off lengths of light and dark.

Duality at it’s best.

With duality comes

pleasure and pain,

joy or distress,

what you want and what you don’t,

everything is made to change.

Your not a victim here,

there are just parameters that apply.

You choose another round of humanesss,

It’s just the way it goes.

You create your illusion,

that’s always up to you.

Time will fall into step with whatever you wish to do.

Search deep within your core,

the answers are always there.

Lengthen the light,

lessen the dark,

find joy instead of pain,

trade in inpatients for acceptance,

enthusiasm over despondency,

activity, stops stagnation.

little steps move you forward,

dispare shuts you down.

There will always be duality,

Can’t have dark without the light.

Just like the clocks of old

couldn’t have a tick without a tock.

We are an infinite creative shimmer of divine energy,

choosing to dance with contrast in the illusion of time.

We can never create faster than we can imagine,

yet what we can imagine, can become true.

Our ability to create is one of our retained gifts of being divine.

Oh!

Morning Meds; 10 2 21

Sitting to meditate, resistance felt, why?

Oh!

What a huge black orb I see.

A foreboding creature of fear.

A thinking cloud of no admittance

Blocking the peace I seek.

Oh!

It’s not a cloud as I supposed,

It’s a mirror I’ve placed in front.

All this blockage, trouble and fear

Is just a reflection of my thoughts.

If I move right, it moves left.

When turned, we remain face to face.

There seems to be no way to pass.

I wonder what I’ve missed?

Oh!

It’s looks to be just a shadow,

They often behave this way.

I know how to make it leave,

I can reach the peace I seek.

And in the quiet of meditation,

I softly shift my gaze,

Away from the impenetrable blackness

Towards the eternal light within my core.

The shadow disappears.

Oh!

If we look towards the light

As much as we can,

The less shadows block our path.

They are only lingering residue

From paths we’ve walked before.