Beauty

"Beauty is life when life unveils her holy face.
But you are life and you are the veil.
Beauty is an eternity gazing at itself in the mirror.
But you are eternity and you are the mirror."
-The Prophet

Imagine

Close your eyes.
Pretend your not sitting
Slumped over, eyes glazed and slightly hazed.
Pretend your not doing things you never
Wanted to do.
Stop taking those notes.
Stop listening to her ramble lifelessly.
Tune into yourself...

Ne te quaesiveris extra

Imagine a world...
Where one never does what one does not want to do.
Where every moment lives up to exactly what it's meant to be;
A world where we never leave the Garden.
A world that bows with ecstasy and rejoices in life
And that, in the afterglow of love, never once gives a reason to depart.
Drift to that place, when you can.. when you need to.
You know you've only got a while though
And now you must leave.

Now lust and anger and loss will slip themselves
Into that world, through cracks you'll never see
And you will open your eyes
Not to pillows of lavender but to
Reality.
And you will forget that place until something or someone
Gives you a reason to visit again.

But don't fret over this.
The world you have imagined will remain
That way, still framed and timeless.
And what is real will be felt and not thought
And when you one day go back to that perfection,
And warm thoughts overcome you
You will be awed.
Not because it is beautiful,
But because of all the times you spent in the cold.

Amidst the Creator: 2

As I exhaled I said sorry
To Him.
My lashes flutter once
Before they close.
Uncertain but
At peace.

After ten minutes,
I opened those lashes like
One might draw back the
Curtain for one last look
at something they lost.

"What are they?"
"This is Me."
And for twenty minutes,
The Heavens were all that I could see.

Trippy

There is an entire population of free living strands covering the surface of my head
They whip and snap and curl and fly away like I wish I could do
January 7th I abruptly left the plains of routine and the taste of the open air hasnt left my tongue
Wild air has not yet left my hair, and I covet the freedom of open roads ever more
The hands of the clock ran its fingers through my brunette feathers ;
Kept me sort of level so I would not catch flight
Kept me somewhat responsible so I could not fail my lovers
Kept me slightly sane for societies sake.

Nonetheless, I plucked the sun from its resting place
Squeezed the colors from it and let them trickle down my arm like concentrated river beds
I smeared my stained hands across the canvas in the sky
Then I lit a match; the colors caught aflame and I cried saying its name... beautiful.
Hot magenta soared downward, punching holes in the purpleish blue undertones
The source of life is not one shade of yellow, but many shades of the creative mind
After the ashes fell just beyond the earths face, I drove farther west into spontaneity.

I left some behind, holding question marks in their hands like torches and pitchforks
I cannot give them the answers they want, why I left that Wednesday so abruptly, so senselessly
What I know is there is adventure that lies awake inside me, waiting...
I cannot tame it, I cannot suppress it
But when it whispers my name I find myself answering, again and again.

beautiful definition

   It is impossible to realize when you have stumbled upon beauty, if you have no comprehension of its consistency. It is in every corner, amidst the ruin and chaos; glanced upon but hardly recognized. Beauty is the scent of a lover lingering on your pillow, a contagious smile, and the warmth of a hand. It is proof that heaven is really never that far from earth and that living is not just simply surviving.