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I forgot who I am.



I want to look up to my life,

even in its mundane unfolding.

I want to look up to the cleanliness and beauty

of a million little things never noticed

because they were good.

Photo by Thomas Griesbeck on Unsplash

I want to wake up to hope every morning,

and lay my soul to rest at the end of the day,

all the while knowing that its labor had meaning

and life has been bettered by it.

The bright linen, the warm hearth and the sunlight,

they’re small tokens of an infinite love

spun from the essence of a place called ‘higher’,

and that’s where I wanna go.



The world has changed from yesterday,

it got transformed,

it moved away,

it went astray,

it slid adrift along a strident Doppler shift.

Photo by Alex Wigan on Unsplash

It bested me and went ahead.

I was too slow for it to wait.

It didn’t know it was my ride, or felt my spurs dig in its side,

it missed my soft voice in its head,

it didn’t notice that I led.

It ran its course and fizzled out, and a new world came from behind

which overtook it while it laughed

and left it choking on its dust.

And I jumped on the better steer.

Yesterday’s gone

but I’m still here.



Nature feels freer just before the morning,

by shadow of darkness, by silver moon beam.

Photo by Casey Horner at Unsplash

Life is then heightened, more precious, more vibrant,

a whirled fuzzy achene caught up in the wind.

There is so much silence, such peaceful contentment,

I envy it, miser, earthbound human kin,

and wish I were song birds, a whipping of branches

a dew covered cattail, a wave in the stream.



A mirror in time my life has become, the doors to my soul open wide.

What couldn’t I be, what couldn’t I find when boundaries fell to the side?

Could someone break in?

Could someone intrude?

They could, if they managed to find a way to withstand, a way to push through the waves of my soul flowing out.

Photo by Darius Bashar at Unsplash

It’s hard to protect, it’s hard to conceal the wind that is sweeping the field, the drop of perfume that fell in the sea, and mingled its essence with it.

I fit in the world as I always did, if that is a reference at all; they’re cut from its fabric, my strength and my wit, we share the same body and soul.



I’m streaming a river of feelings and naught, a river that weaves through my thought.

From color and passion my movements are wrought, seduced by their hues and besought.

Image by Greg Racozy at Unsplash

On many souls’ wings I am carried along, a witness to both right and wrong.

I straddle the edge between life and beyond, not sure to which one I belong.

I live in continuous flux, in the berth of reality, watching its birth.

I’m here, then I’m not, then I’m back here, called forth, if ‘here’ is a place on this earth.

The soft ebb and flow that appearance assumes both comforts and gently entombs.

I’m safe in existence, this strange, endless room, like babies are safe in the womb.