eternal bloom

sometimes there are many doors that open wide all at once down an infinite corridor. sometimes things feel caught in a net of disharmony. i am looking for the garden of our relationship. an eternal bloom while juxtaposing cycles of life. if we are made of patterns we have the key. sometimes it gets loud in here, with anger and wandering. flashes of images that need to nourish me gently haunt until i am in a salt bath with warm light, with beautiful women singing. do you ever wonder why things can’t stay the same. how we are attached to comets blazing across our universe, networking through roots underground, is the soil the past or future. each of us creation. why stars are children. that’s who i talked to as i searched the sky through tall giants every night, meeting the precise return of belonging. a flood, a fire - metaphors for a greater story. the dark knight almost falls back in his chair, enamored. water, skin. a birth. 

my favourite flower is Indian paintbrush.

vivacious

i want it to have rose petals, like a river. butter, silk, a phenomenon. there is a way of longing when all things are in front if you. soft and historic, white walls cascade towards a clear blue abyss. turn the music on louder. places that are the sound of altruistic weavings, quiet and benevolent.

healing is wild tobacco and sage, sailing through storms, little lion mouths. have i considered the miracle. a shoreline is a common ground for two wildly different worlds.

we meander through the wind holding hot chocolate. i try to find my body’s etymology, through a soft path of desert plants. when i hold my daughter with the great expanse, meaning is holy and clear. love is our greatest freedom. 

radiant positivity

now there is a gate to respect the sanctity of place. gather a few extra rules to guard our ever evolving history. i wonder if we all scatter in our minds around a story that is both a well and a solitude. if music invokes us in the same way. does my heart move with yours. that is what i am asking. beyond, at home, for the longlasting. you are who you are. what flavour. offer something, past judgement: a moonflower, the act, many small suns.

i

am 

carried 

by the fire 

and the song. 

true sand

masa. an astrologer. a mother. an old ally. at horse thief canyon we missed the sun falling behind volcanoes and bathed in all traces of colour down a dirt road through the cold air. i turned 39 today and reflected on the bounty of honesty that is necessary for us to weave our ways. relax in the visions of guidance.