Garden by the wishing well

Garden by the wishing well

Take these distilled moments and let it be spilt into a wishing well. 
bc it’s meant to be spent
And lost
Let love be treasured
there’s no expiration
create a new default
Where faults are now fertile ground
For gold dafodils to sprout
Weave a new basket to pick away all doubt
there is no rush
There is no hurry
whisper all your fears away
with the soft glow of late bloom
let it consume the grief away
let it lash the confusion with lush lavender
be rained upon with cream rose petals
that reflect good memories from the past

This is your garden and that is your well.
so flourish
And let trickle the days you fell

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A threshold past the heavens

are you catching on
are you catching onto how each cloud reflects the sky in its own view
bringing color and form in every possible hue
are you catching onto how each cloud gives the sky purpose

and how the sky finds purpose with the clouds
and that we see the final scene
with all of it’s everlasting depth and beauty

are you catching onto how this scenery is the secret to all we yearn
that it’s all we need to learn
every breeze plows the clouds apart
fashioning each strobe most delicately through the horizon
there’s wisdom in every whispered wonder in whatever cloud that descends a little lower than usual

do you see the magnitude before your eyes
what is arrogance
what is pride
what is ownership
when that which is beyond us
is past our bewilderment

what little is left
but love
something we can acquire

a threshold of its own
a bridge that leads to further discovery
creating beauty from all the past and misery
as the sun sets away last of it’s days fusing light
to fall in love with the moon
and enlighten another path
that can only be seen in the night
and each star to twinkle us through time until we set again

and again, and again.

for us to find a reason to smile again,

and again.

my nose is caught high on a hook

The pain of thought would have diminished as the excess scent of incense blows away,   leaving the gentle aroma behind.
Instead, I have now tainted my feet and must allow it to heal, as well as to let my hardened tongue to soften and stop oozing the puss of angst and pride.
my nose is caught high on a hook, I’m a display of arrogance and humiliation.
I’ve exhausted my soul of proper recompense, I can only move on to tell myself the tall tale of my belligerence.
Complaining leads to further damnation

It’s when the thorns outgrow and envelope the rose of patience and light.
Taking away the sweet fragrance of forbearance and experience, further expelling the ungrown seeds of wisdom.
Had I been patient and silent, I wouldnt have burned my feet on a road of hot black asphalt, only to find a thorny dead end.
Sometimes, we take our privilege to such an extent that it destroys us.

A mystifying divine right, revenge.

Revenge
A destroyer of Nations
A fuel for hate

A sweet sultering darkness that swoons over all thoughts into a mystifying divine right.
Pure intimidation and lust at once
Drunk over the word loss and chance
Staunch over a decieving thrust to jump the bridge into a searing chance of bliss and victory, only to land head first into a landmine of regret and loss of time
It’s another realm , not a dream , not a nightmare, it’s an illusion- a smog intoxicating the heart

Smoldering in pain from scathed open wounds, only to heal them with red hot stones, and to leave a defying scar, a trophy of loss, defeat, and revenge. Has harmony been achieved?

There is no victory in revenge

the memory of faltering to the ground is still Stark and glowing amidst the dark

A mystifying divine right,

but there is no victory in revenge

Nationalist 

I’m a nationalist to humanity

There is no dirt that belongs to me

Where I belong is where hearts find safety

I don’t look at color or the wealthy

My language is of Love

And my skin simply reflects the sun

My flag is black with brilliance, absorbing all the colors in the sun.

My culture is that of freedom and honor

And pizza and chocolate 

And cheese

And lastly, my religion, my belief, is my life and etiquette. 

Money and Status

 

don’t dig through others’ pockets
for gold that’s already been sold
reset your clocks to when you were only sowing
the seeds before you began plowing and reaping
your ego and reeking of prestige that only the blind
with heavy pockets are obsessed to see

bring back your memory of blood sweat and tears
oh the happy years of living without the fears of degradation
you left it all to the One in control
that was your only reparation
because you knew your sole purpose was for your soul,
not to please others and become the one who oppresses
and controls
and sees through numbers