We Are Eternal

Morning Meds; 11 14 22

Returning to the stars we rise,

living vapors drawn aloft by convections call.

From levels of cool mortality, we re-engage with immortality.

Our husk’s ability to renew faded.

Our lives written on chalkboards wiped clear.

But we are eternal.

Each life is but a flash in eternity vastness,

Yet each is chronicled in the library of souls preserved for our revisit.

From a thought, to an act, to a single united cell, we grow, bloom and fade so our beauty can be regathered and shared again.

For we are eternal.

Not You, Not Me

Morning Meds; 10 8 22

As we wave our minds through the fog of solidity we begin to see that nothing is solid.

Not you, not me.

We exist as a mist surrounded by a fog in a cloud of imagined realities.

Ever changing, constantly reshaping ourselves by whims, beliefs and intentions.

Our greatest strength is our fluidity.

Our greatest solace is that we can always change.

Our greatest tool of transformation is realization.

Our greatest guiding direction is always love.

Butterfly Essence

On the belly of a leaf,

In the cool of its shade,

Near the rusted rake,

Forgotten by the gardener. 

The essence of a butterfly 

Stirs in its emerald sphere. 

Two united, reconfigured into one, 

The combined essence of its parental pair. 

A freeing push, 

A silent tear, 

A flood of light, 

A new life appears. 

An infant caterpillar unfurls. 

Driven by growth, 

It moves to the edge of a leaf. 

Swallowing up its essence. 

While the world continually shifts from light to dark. 

It reaches its length of days, 

Then, draws a silken strand 

And spins itself its shroud. 

On the belly of a leaf 

In the cool of its shade 

Near the rusted rake 

Forgotten by the gardener. 

In the darkness of its silken shroud,  

The essence of life transforming, 

Hangs by a thread,


The reshaped essence of the plant 

Transformed to be its own, 

The essence of the parental pair and it’s own.

The four reshaped as one. 

Energy continually reused 

Rearranged, reshaped, reformed 

Recombined changing a 

Silken shroud into womb. 

On the belly of a leaf 

In the cool of its shade 

Near the rusted rake 

Forgotten by the gardener 

A blacked womb twitches. 

A silence tear, 

A flood of light, 

A new life appears. 

Struggling with a form unknown,

Pulling itself to the light,

Wings hardened by air,

The essence of many takes flight. 

Its essence a combination, 

Of generation upon generation,

The eternal act of sharing,

Ones living essence with another.