Leaving behind

Empty echoes of yesterday
ghosts of a different life
my heart still beats
but I am not the same
I float in outer space

I squint and frown
but the world offers no way out
I am here, right here
feeling it all
Bruised, so bruised
gasping for breath
I close my eyes and rest

I stand tall in the storm of a thousand thundering waves
threatening my very foundation
my lips are dry and cracked
beneath my feet
a steep staircase of darkness
sometimes I limp, sometimes I jump
I could fall down, right now
and burst into eternity
leaving behind only
a thousand fading stars

I am this movement, I am home

The sensuous ebb and flow of the breath, 
The warmth of the sun on the skin,
The touch of light on the eyelids, like a kiss,
The soothing sound of leaves rustling in the breeze,
The satisfying release of bodyweight into the support of the Earth -
Nothing in particular to do or be,
Just savoring the texture of life in this moment…

Relaxing, melting, softening into lusciousness.
Sinking down, letting go, deeper, deeper …
Breath spreading, massaging everywher inside, a gentle caress…Ah…
Here, now, the movement of life, touching me,
Healing me, revealing its simple truth – 
I am immersed in the embrace of life.

Yes, I hear the Yes.
And my response, Yes.
I am this movement.
I am home.

- Camille Maurine, Meditation secrets for women

Life’s fickle dance

This vagueness of being
this passing of time, groaning like a used up machine
always looking on the map, without ever
finding the right direction
A curse escaping your lips.

You dip your toe in salty water
trying to unravel the origin
of those never-ending waves
Fuming with a mysterious grace.
Would they carry you deep into the ocean
Or throw you back on the stony beach
as the only survivor of life’s fickle dance?

Riddles, half-hearted answers
The mist still playing with your head
Step by step you continue
dancing in the small marble square
The prints of your lipstick
still locked to your second glass of wine

How curious is the case of a girl who’s in love

An excerpt of something I’m writing (not sure yet how it’s going to turn out)
P.S. I like to write about love and relationships. ^^

How curious is the case of a girl who’s in love. Of course, she will wonder at the concept of love and the distinctions that can be made. She’s well aware that an early attraction, no matter how it burns her heart, is not the same kind of love as two people sharing a mutual bond, thereby transcending themselves and creating a space between them so potent it can bring forth new life, in all meanings of the word. Still, in a moment of excruciating self-honesty, she believes all the love in the universe is right there, softly pulsating in her heart, waiting for him to touch it and make it come alive. To her, her beloved is like a universe in himself, wrapping his presence around her, penetrating her every thought, without even having to know she exists. She denies it, she despairs at her own mental health, she condemns herself for her silly emotions – and yet there is no escape. The burning of a dreamer’s heart continues into eternity. She recognizes her beloved in different forms, different bodies, never quite being able to grasp his essence and put a stop to the crazy roller coaster. She has loved a lot of men from a distance, always finding a new appreciation for their divergent characters and a new glitter of life in the dark caverns of their eyes. Like a magpie, she has an impeccable talent for spotting glittery gold in others, even when it’s buried under several layers of mud. Her white side wants to dig up that gold and weave it together with the beautiful colors of their mortal and fallible humanity. She’d mould their bodies anew as the goddesses of old and give them immortal life if she could. But magpies are nothing if not made of darkness too.
Of course she has read all the theories, explanations, rationalizations about that age-old human experience. It’s only herself she seeks in others, the books warn her. Burning for love is nothing but burning away all the layers of illusion until your own essence is revealed. Look in the mirror, sweetheart, and discover who you are, instead of always yearning for his presence, for him to stand still for one moment and look you in the eyes. The beloved will always remain elusive.
A determined nod. A vow to change course, to be unaffected, even to renounce all that silliness known as romantic love. A hardening of heart. Her burning, yearning, ancient, knowing heart.
But what a vain and in vain enterprise it is for a girl of such intensity.
It’s not long before his physical presence unleashes every wayward feeling from under the heavy rock she thought she had buried her foolishness under. She can sense him from a distance, his very being there an attack on her body, leaving her reeling in confusion and burning need. She clutches at the remains of her sanity, the effort being the only thing stopping her from breaking the insufferable tension and doing something stupid. She’d rather die than letting him see anything of the torment raging inside her soul. So, she meets his eyes and politely answer his questions, all the while dying a little on the inside. 

If I wanted to fly, I’d be a bird

In silence I sit
waiting without expectation
for that divine movement of soul.
I have no need for transcendence,
I’d rather go downward
to the very core of my being
burning in radiant flames.

I am knee-deep in mud
a fertile stirring of my own essence
Here my name is written
Here I can rest for a while.

After all, I am human.
If I wanted to fly, I’d be a bird.
I’m not afraid to love my body,
or to graciously accept
my transient, messy life.
I’m stuck to the ground
No floating away for me today.
I’d rather remember my wisdom
by crawling and kissing the earth.
Besides, when I lay down and turn around,
All the clouds are below me
and I am above the sky.