Poetry, Reflections

“Where Am I?…”

There is a “place” where my soul resides

complete…

serene…

unique…

But subject to the tides

of my emotions.

If I am irritated or upset, confused or distressed

a storm passes through

my soul’s refuge;

each tempest’s severity

determined by my level of discomfort.

Washing clean the landscapes of my mind,

so I may paint them anew

with fresh eyes…

and fresh insights…

a new color palette

from which to choose.

***   ***   ***

I think I’ll redecorate my sanctuary today.

Bring in more sun, perhaps…

Plant a seed or two…

Prune a tree of dead branches…

Make some more room.

For “I” am expanding, growing my self

and much here no longer serves.

Nor does it aid Others

on their own personal journeys.

And maybe I will name this place;

label it properly…

define it in perpetuity…

take a stand at long last!

***   ***   ***

Hmm…

Processing…

Pondering…

Wondering…

***   ***   ***

By Jove, I think I’ve got it!

From this point onward…

evermore…

through All infinity…

I shall call this place exactly 

what It is:

Reality!

 

Advertisements
Standard

7 thoughts on ““Where Am I?…”

  1. Creators empower themselves to make up their own reality. The more self-empowerment, the more that reality takes shape and strengthens itself against a world of unfinished, unfulfilled dreams, of shattered realities, of graveyards where even flowers won’t grow. What destroys self-made realities? What disempowers them and throws the dreamer back on the street? Emotions, (and attendant belief systems) which I call the exhaust of feelings. Empowered dreamers; makers of their own reality, learn to eschew emotions; to treat them as the poison they really are. Emotions are what causes otherwise intelligent people to return to their bad habits, to continually jump back into that Matrix squirrel cage and waste their lives feeding the consensus when they should be feeding their minds… and their own families.

    Liked by 3 people

  2. each tempest’s severity
    determined by my level of discomfort.
    Washing clean the landscapes of my mind,
    so I may paint them anew

    so powerful because, at least for me, so true, if I can reach down and find the strength to paint them anew

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s