Somehow,
we become an adult
from an infant.
In such an incremental way
progressing from inches to
feet.
Our hair and eyes change,
height,
weight –
And still we remain the same,
our transformations keeping us whole.
“Changes.” – bem
Tag: creativity
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Changes.
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Patience.
Planting seeds and watching them grow.
Some burst forth from the rich, warm soil,
some try,
and others never reach the light.The gardener bends over
in the afternoon heat,
basking in the sun’s glow
and focusing in unbroken
concentration.Handfuls of seeds
all in a row,
freshly laid soil
in neat little boxes,
here and there.And then
planting,
packing,
watering,
waiting…“Patience.” – bem
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A meditation on gratitude.
Running in a grassy open field
under the bright blue sky
and blazing
sun
in the summertime,Laughing hysterically –
so hard,
my stomach muscles tense
and sore,
and I can barely
gulp
for air.The bliss of ecstasy
in the middle of the night
with another
feeling, not thinking,
drunk on emotions
completely enraptured in the
glow of candlelight,
a dark, hot moment,
entangled in someone else’s arms.Blissful amnesia,
the state of just being.
A return to childhood innocence
and the fleeting gift
of present-moment awareness.The wisdom of youth:
entirely immersed with just being,
no concept of past or future.
Battling the folly of the old:
constantly yearning and craving
for what was,
anticipating what will be.Gratitude hits me in those fleeting moments
in the gaps between time and space
where I forget
yesterday and the days yet to come,
when I experience the beautiful truth
of what is right now.“A meditation on gratitude.” – bem
Thank you and much love to you all for opening your hearts and minds to my little corner of the internet,
and happy thanksgiving to anyone celebrating the holiday ❤ -
Illumination.
I open my eyes and I open
my soul.My mind perceives
far more depth
than I can fathom.Through observation,
I accumulate the wisdom
of countless libraries,
vaults,
tombs.As long as I am breathing and
seeing,
I am learning.“Illumination.” – bem
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The old schoolhouse.
They built the old schoolhouse
at the top of the hill
with the greenest grass
facing East.They made the schoolhouse
from red brick and limestone
and those magnificent windows
gleaming and tall, clear.The lawn was lush
with verdant, crisp-smelling grass
topped with neatly planted flowers
and bushes and trees.
A white stone fountain
with water gushing from
the earth and shooting upward.And with time came the ivy.
Catching and grasping
and pulling itself
up the red brick and limestone
toward the clear blue sky.September through May
a hundred times over.
Thousands of lessons
and recesses
and respites
and running
and whispering
and screaming
and thinking
and speaking.The ivy climbed
through it all,
up toward the blue,
never looking back.But oh! If it could only see
how far it’s come
from that dark, dank soil
toward the cloudless sky.“The old schoolhouse.” – bem
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The shift.
Tied and untied
sewn and unsewn.We learn to create
and un-create.The value is in the
doing and
undoing.As long as there’s
a shift,
there is life. -
Moving.
In order to stay alive,
we must keep moving.It is the utmost intention of each
atom within ourselves
to stay in motion.Even when I rest, I remain
in motion.In order to stay alive,
I must keep moving.“Moving.” – bem
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The void.
The void created by what we don’t know
precedes all intelligence.
In order to make way for the gifts and blessings
of what we learn and
experience,
there must first be an opening.“The void.” – bem
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The flame.
The flame.
Oxygen fans flames
to keep them alive
like souls in bodies.Breathing in –
inhaling,
dragging, drawing,
sometimes panting,
or even gasping –
to stay alive.Then the inevitable
exhale.
The contraction of the lungs.
Release.
Relief.
Then expanding once more –
to stay alive.Fanning the flame of the human spirit.
First the initial spark.
Then brightening,
glowing,
flickering,
dimming than bursting.
Oxygen flowing in and out –
to stay alive. -
The seasons.
The seasons.
Throughout the seasons,
the leaves on a tree
change
one by one.Winter, spring, summer, and fall,
and back again.In winter,
the barren branches frost over,
covered in crystals,
and slumbering to survive
in the darkness.In spring,
gradual thawing
leads to growth.
The blossoming begins,
sap seeps through the cracks.Expanding,
Thriving,
Feeding,
Feasting.
Opening to the sun,
dancing in the rain.In summer,
the leaves laugh –
tickled by the wit of the wind
breezing by
and reaching up to the light
in a mutual embrace.
Basking,
Glowing,
Giving and receiving.In autumn,
the preparation begins.
Storing nutrients and
cutting off leaves.
Each turning colors,
then spiraling from sky to soil,
performing its grand finale.Gradually,
the tree fortifies itself
and lays down to rest.
And then,
the frosting and slumbering
begins again.Our bodies are like nature
with the intelligence and wisdom of trees.
All of our parts
sensing and feeling the time.
Responding,
Working,
Sharing,
Expanding and contracting,
Sleeping.And still,
every time the season turns,
we panic as though we’ve never
been through this
dozens of times.But we have –
We’ve simply
forgotten.
Since,
like the trees,
the seasons
keep us
brand new.“The seasons.” – bem
heartbreak and cigarettes 