There is a moment that comes, as I pass through the threshold and shed the trappings of the outside world. A moment in which I am able to release mundane thoughts and more fully envelop the core of my being.
In that moment I fully appreciate my presence in the world, my place in it. I absolve myself of the worries and trials of the day, and allow myself to settle into a more natural existence.
Once I let fall those portions of life which are immaterial to who I am, what remains of the day informs me of myself.
Velvet Verbosity this week has asked us to write about what remains of the day. This is my effort to that end. It’s less poetic and more prose, I know, but a poem didn’t come to me this time.
Quietly they wander the woods
straying from the rocky shore
where majestic eagles stand watch
to explore deeper within.
Although the season sings of death
all around them is new
they are reborn to their natural souls
Fallen trunks and trickling brooks
do not speak of loss
to these wanderers
but of renewal and hope.
Together they travel
ignoring walls of logic
instead allowing knowing to bloom
listening to the voice of nature.
Inspired by the season, by my life, and by the words found at this weeks Sunday Whirl.
For those that pay attention, my name has changed on this blog, and I’ve done some shifting of blogs to another account. Along with the other changes going on in my life, I’m turning my attention to my spiritual path. To this end, I’ve adopted a new name, one that has a spiritual meaning. Because my poetry and my spirituality are so closely linked, I’m keeping my spiritual blog and this blog linked, so I will be using the name I have taken for my spiritual journey in my poetic world as well.
my fingers reach, arched and delicate
poised for a single stroke
or many perhaps, depending on the mood
they tremble, eager to release
to relieve the pressure of holding back
my lip caught between my teeth
eyes close a moment
then a breath escapes me and I sigh
finally I move
eager to release the words pent up
within my soul
fingers delicate across the keys
spilling words upon a screen
eliciting smiles and murmurs of delight
my verse revealed
stares back at me
the exhibitionist in me baring her soul
the briefest glimpse of my anima
Velvet Verbosity asked us to explore the ways in which writing makes us tremble this week, and this is my approach to that. Enjoy!