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.
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
Today, you are born.
Everything has re-created itself for you.
And in response,
All there is to do is love.
Inhaling, exhaling.
Eyes cracked open for the first time,
Seeing:
the world for the first time.
Your mother, your father,
Your sister, your brother.
Yourself –
for the first time.
Him, her, us, them – all.
The dense blades of lush green grass
and blazing canary yellow sunlight.
Cool, cerulean skies
dotted with shape shifting cotton candy clouds.
Wind rushing toward your fresh face,
Glittering ocean waves.
Entire bodies of water
re-created for you
to love for the first time.
The feeling of cool, gritty sand
slipping through your clenched fists,
shifting underneath the weight of your feet.
The first time you heard a crack of thunder,
Shivered in the rain,
Then tasted a warm strawberry sunset.
Experiencing it all today
For the first time.
And in response,
All there is to do is love.
Inhaling, exhaling.
Until you lay down for another rest.
Until, again, the opportunity presents itself –
Born again, to another new day.
The world re-creates itself for you.
And you awaken, and crack your eyes open,
To love it all again,
Like it’s the first time.
“Today, you are born.” – BEM
Yesterday, I woke up a caterpillar.
Lazily slugging along
through the autumn leaves.
Nibbling and grazing,
Plumping and lengthening.
Accustomed to life on earth,
Contented and ever looking forward
To what met me next
On that damp, solid ground.
Then, the time
And instinct came.
“Rise higher.”
So I climbed the tree,
Created a new home for myself
Until I was surrounded in that silken,
Darkened womb.
Topsy-turvy,
Upside down.
Suspended in mystery.
Then came time,
Instinctively,
To digest myself
In that magical soup.
Upside down,
All my experiences
Encased in silk
Breaking down and reforming
While the world steadily turned around me,
I patiently waited within myself
To see how I
Reformed.
And instinctively,
I emerged –
My old home no longer fit.
Suffocated –
I broke out.
Still emerging,
The world still turning around me,
Urging
“Go higher.”
Shaking off these new things –
Wings.
I’m beckoned
“Fly.”
And so, I do.
And when it’s time,
You, too, will know
Instinctively
That it’s time to grow
Encased within yourself
All that you’ve consumed.
Marinating,
Breaking down,
Reforming.
In that magical, mystical
Darkness.
Until you’re beckoned
To the light
When your old home
Is outgrown.
You, too, will fly
Into that same sky,
Occasionally noticing
A little something
Slugging along, lazing along
Down below.
Satisfied with solid ground
Lazing along the dirt
And nibbling leaves
Not yet knowing the nectar
Of the beautiful flowers and that blissful freedom
That awaits you
In your new home
In the sky.
The magic of darkness. – BEM
heartbreak and cigarettes 