Oh, yes. Thank you Wes. I have been like this for as long as I can remember. Going into the deep end of everything. Not always easy, but more than worth the work of feeling. I think I wrote a poem about the deep end once. I’ll have to dig it up.
I do like a poem that knows how to roar, weep, scream, moan, pant, live and die. That's what all the good ones do, they throw you off a cliff and whisper, "It may turn out well yet."
I’m walking away thinking deeply about two points — how pouring myself into everything makes me shallow/depleted and all the ways I’ve made my body heavy. I’m far more guilty of the later. Hate has made my body hard and unforgiving, but I no longer treat myself like that. You can’t heal a body/soul that you hate, and I don’t hate either 🤍
And your body/soul loves you eternally. I am so grateful this gave you something to contemplate. I too hardened my body with years of hatred. What a wild ride to allow her to be, just as she is, shapeshifting.
Now I'm also thinking about the seeming paradox that when you don't put yourself in a million places in an attempt to experience everything you want to experience, when you're just present, everything becomes so much richer. And the yearning shifts to being more concentrated in the moment.
I'm so glad you enjoyed this one. It came to me, ever so conveniently, at 1 am. I reckoned it must've been worth my attention
Damn, Mike. This is the best praise I've ever received. THANK YOU, deeply, for seeing and for sharing the vision.
And wow, that is quite some synchronicity. It makes me feel, more than ever, like I have found the right community to share this work with. Your and your friend's pieces are next in my queue.
I enjoy the extreme polarity you often have going on.
"If I do not long for all of me, there is no crueler punishment."
It's the soul of a poet that legitimately feels these extremes.
Oh, yes. Thank you Wes. I have been like this for as long as I can remember. Going into the deep end of everything. Not always easy, but more than worth the work of feeling. I think I wrote a poem about the deep end once. I’ll have to dig it up.
I do like a poem that knows how to roar, weep, scream, moan, pant, live and die. That's what all the good ones do, they throw you off a cliff and whisper, "It may turn out well yet."
Dare I say this is my favorite yet?!
I’m walking away thinking deeply about two points — how pouring myself into everything makes me shallow/depleted and all the ways I’ve made my body heavy. I’m far more guilty of the later. Hate has made my body hard and unforgiving, but I no longer treat myself like that. You can’t heal a body/soul that you hate, and I don’t hate either 🤍
And your body/soul loves you eternally. I am so grateful this gave you something to contemplate. I too hardened my body with years of hatred. What a wild ride to allow her to be, just as she is, shapeshifting.
Now I'm also thinking about the seeming paradox that when you don't put yourself in a million places in an attempt to experience everything you want to experience, when you're just present, everything becomes so much richer. And the yearning shifts to being more concentrated in the moment.
I'm so glad you enjoyed this one. It came to me, ever so conveniently, at 1 am. I reckoned it must've been worth my attention
And also, when I’m not forcing myself into a million places that I’m actually free to be everywhere…the paradox of all paradoxes l
Yes!! Brilliant! 🪩👁️♥️
That’s a marvelous string of words there, roar, weep, scream, moan, pant, live and die. Sounds like sections of a memoir i want to read/write
Damn, Mike. This is the best praise I've ever received. THANK YOU, deeply, for seeing and for sharing the vision.
And wow, that is quite some synchronicity. It makes me feel, more than ever, like I have found the right community to share this work with. Your and your friend's pieces are next in my queue.