Muzzled by your own fear
the judgement is clear
Stunned into silence
conformity is upon us
A bewildered storm stirs inside you
The true self longs to be heard
Don’t accept the confinement by the cold and departed
Fight for your will
Release without fear.
When you are living, do you ever think of the place you are in? and when you are conscious of that sudden moment,…the place you find yourself in that is, do you question it? do you think to yourself, is this really happening? is this taking place? For starters, When i find myself overly consumed in a feeling, whether it be anger, or sadness, i always tend to question the moment, and why I’m reacting the way I’m reacting. what led me to such a state of distress? why did i let something affect me so? and then i stop. I take the realness out of it,..because my reaction to whatever it was, is just how i perceived it to be, or if i made it out to be larger than what it truly was, or even if ‘it’ actually was, in the first place. if this all is even, anything….But it obviously has to be something..I obviously cared about this thing to the point where it arose such an emotion of both anger, and sadness of not having what i wanted, or if things didn’t go the way i wanted them to go. It is then, i question whether if i’m allowed to possess these feelings…not in the sense of a set of rules for which feelings a person is able to have, but for my own sanity. It then turns into this constant spiral within myself,…questioning myself, and questioning life entirely…
The being within cries in a dark corner, waiting for the same someone to hold her, realizing she only has herself to console her. But where did he go? He went away like the seasons. He always seems to return for some odd reason. Like chemistry conspired by bonding them together; or was it the drift of the sudden change in weather? The feelings he arises within her makes it all better, yet it always passes then she places on her lenses. Her allergies just might have thrown off her senses. She arises from the shadows and turns to see, that the grass will always be a lovely green. Green with life, love, and awareness to remember that a first love will surely perish to make anew a better lover, to keep her heart safe in its constant slumber.
Fell in love with the feeling of wind.
The way it blows on my skin,
Wondering if they relate to me…how can they not see,
the beauty of simplicity.
Yellow rays fill the skies, shining bright—
can you see it? It’s trying to pervade in each and every corner..
Though it struggles, it morphed into a different form. It is within us,
can you feel it? It yearns to be acknowledged. The light within you,
yet it is plummeted by our ignorance to it. The beauty.
it’s waiting for you, patiently. Take a Listen.
she closes her eyes while they think she is running into the darkened corners of her mind. Yet they do not know what she is imagining in her head, is a world without them.
All erased and creates a scene of mustered trees in spring time swaying—hearing birds their soothing songs.
And The clouds, yes the clouds are stirring when she takes her time to lay on the grass; it prickles her bear back though,
she smiles and inhales the beckoned vision of her mind, and yearns to be wakened in a life where her subtle dreams,
become her life.
My dearest friend once told me, “this is it, this is the day my husband will alas’, long for me, yearn for my affection, cherish my being and our love like the first moment we said ‘i do.’” Prior to her sullen realization, she would describe the hopelessness of her marriage as dark and bare, like the vast gloomy sea as witnessed in the coldest of seasons. Her heart shivered due to her gradual awareness of her husband’s impassivity.
Living a stroll away from the ocean, there wouldn’t be an afternoon where i wouldn’t see Jane; her swaying white gown dancing with the wind, facing the seemingly never ending sea with the intentess of her posture in search of something greater than what she possessed. in a world so bleak, filled with disharmony and the imperious persona men portray themselves to be, only thus, spreads like a plague for women to inevitably pine away and long for there dreams to be a reality. The illusionment of being respected, and viewed as an equal.
Introspectively speaking, i have never fully felt that i have attained my true identity; the woman i have the potential to be, the woman who envisions herself having a voice, a voice of reason; a voice of authority over herself and her own demises.
Yet it was Jane, whose passion and deep concern for the womens’ place, that which ignited a spark in my heart and soul. Her intensity and strong-hearted beliefs of what women deserved spread like a wildfire that only made me fully resent the nature of my husband even more.
The day Jane told me of what i perceived to deserve a warm response, she abruptly short after bade me farewell, professed her endearing love for me and departed west to her abode. It wasn’t till the next afternoon when i customaringly examined her wonderous existence that on the contrary of her gazing into the horizon, she was embarking deep into the mouth of the encroaching water. Rushing out of my home without hesitation, i whisked my feet to reach her before it was too late.
The constrains of life, no matter how unbearable and dark it all may seem, there will always be a beaken of light at the end of the path. In the midst of strolling wearily to the end of the shore while wearing our weighless white gowns we wondered if we, would ever reach that Divine light.