intuition

Letting The Bird Out

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Poems.

Willing at the start

We believed we were ready

But the insecurities came flooding in

 

Like a bird let out of it's cage

Flying high, soaring low

Damage was being done and I didn't know

 

Feelings were felt

Confused and without direction

Unrewarding activities occurred

 

Awkward the days became

Further pushed away

All intuition was lost at sea

 

When it was new

It was exciting

But there wasn't worth to be found

 

Freedom was dangerous

When abused,

You could lose all

 

The unexplored will remain a mystery

Acceptance of that is the key

Pure Love

I see through your eyes, I see out from mine.
What do I know of true love while sinking in the sands of time?
There is a treasure hidden, i can feel it in every cell
Although I can not see it, I know it very well.
If i must give it a physical description, it is like a diamond the size of a heart
So crystal clear and pure, with every spectrum of light, even the ones not seen with the human eyes,
this light is piercing through the ones who plot destruction, revealing every lie.
In a world of confusion, what can we do, except for focus merely on truth?
Your intellect and analyzing will only leave you confused.
When you think you have the answer, the entire question changes,
let love flow through every one of your veins then.
All I can count on is love, love will lead me home.
I am home. I am here, now in a place beyond space and time
no illusions, no fear, no hidden demise.
There is a treasure hidden, i can feel it in every cell
Although I can not see it, I know it very well.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I know what darkness feels like, the feeling of being so cold I go numb. I know what it tastes like. The bitterness of no hope, of not knowing whats real, whats fake, of dis ease. The bitterness can be felt in the heart.

The darkness has caused me to head towards the light, to appreciate it to the greatest extent. with my heart finally melting, no longer hardened, frozen like stone and bitter. I can feel it melting, as I run back towards home, knowing all is well. All has always been well. I have always been loved far more than I could fathom. This ultimate source of love is infinite, it will never cease to be. The light will always be. We will always be a bit of this eternal love and light, connected and in perfect harmony with all. All is well, you can rest in that. Now you can breathe (: It is an intuitive knowing, more real than anything in this physical realm. More "me" than this body. It is a truth that goes far deeper than just the mind. Just know I am always here for you, there is always someone who loves you.

The Six Senses of the Beholder...

In the eyes of the beholder there is misery, deceit,
unlawfulness, and chaos…painted over with beauty,
honor, righteousness, and freedom…
Time does not lie, so with each day that passes-by
the colors of the portrait fade away and run down
the canvas of life, exposing the true nature in sight
with true feelings mixed in oils and acrylics-

In the ears of the beholder sounds of sugar coated
words sweeten the facts, enticing the flavor of the lies…
the desperate savor the words of a leader, salivating
every time he opens his mouth, but every time he opens
his mouth killer bees spawn stinging the dream…
the wicked are heard laughing at their cries-

From the mouth of the beholder word is born;
words manifest the sign of the times, giving birth to an
illusion of better days ahead…narrating the truth he sees.
he speaks with grace, compassion, rage, and discontent—
many say, “oh, he’s just another poet,” yet what they don’t
know is that the beholder speaks life and breathes love;
always thinking of others, caring for his enemies.

The hands of the beholder help the weak rise, lend support.
Shaken hands with the best of them, but the best of them
are far from their best! With hammers and chisels his hands
create art with masonry. With pencils and utensils’ he composes
poetry that resonate through the ears of non-believers of
essence long after he’s done speaking; they hold their hands
up high as if to say, “why, must he speak?”

The beholders feet have traveled through lands and valley’s
unknown, walked miles for distant smiles and forgotten lovers,
ran through concrete jungles, racing against time!
Footprints left behind tell a story of a journey; remnants along
his path show signs of roads less traveled. With weary legs he
stumbles, but always rises to his feet. He faces adversary, never
defeat…where ever he roams, he conquers fears; a traveling man
with wings on his feet!

He feels the mood of the world upon his shoulders, sees the
sadness in someone’s smile, hears the truth in people’s voices,
many are liars, only a few does he believes in…your thoughts
are silhouettes of your feelings dancing in my head, parading in
a masquerade. Above all qualities his sixth sense is a virtue...
In the mind of the beholder, I am one…I am the beholder!

Author's Notes/Comments: 

The Beholder is I...

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