It'll flow when it flows,
Like a babbling brook,
Giggling through meadows,
Of creativity,
And mental banks,
Full of books,

Stimulation,
Free from frustration,
Exaltation,
Intoxication,

Full of life,
Full of love,

To nurture your being,
Cuddle your feelings,
Revive,
Your sense of meaning.

And here my words have stopped
Flowing
Everything seems still
And the way I feel
Is just through trails of
Sadness from my eyes
Flowing
And here my world stands still

Often times is just my mind
Whenever I try
To hold and control
My heart breaks flows
All its stored emotions
But now it's just teary eyes
And a pillow to soak

And all I have left to say is that my words have stopped flowing

Inside of every line there is a meaning hard to find
A moment of the mind
A breath of sacred life
A body not to bind
A sharpness like a knife
Pure attention
Not a weapon, but slicing through each second
Severing summoned notions
With smooth motions
Leaving only seamless being
Flowing like an ocean
Coming and going
The ebb and flow
Of life under the light
No longer lost in night
Now caught in perfect sight
For but a moment
Where the flow went
Before returning to the sea
To effervescent infinity
With equanimity
You are here with me
Flowing
Like the ocean

A leaf floating
on the water
has no effect
on its future.
It drifts passively
on the pond,
In an hour,
a day,
or a week,
it may land on the shore across the pond,
or remain floating on the water,
or even sink to the bottom forevermore,
Without ever knowing why.  

Are you drifting in your own small pond?
Floating oblivious,
Unsure, uncertain, unmade?
Going wherever the waters take you?
Watching the world pass and fade?
Or sinking and drowning?

Or have you set the sail in your boat
And know the direction
you’re headed,
Your purpose, your vision, your mission,
Sitting back and enjoying the flow,
The tumultuous journey with its ups and downs,
As you watch the world unfold within and around you.  
From calm sweet waters,
To crashing and crushing high rise waves.
It’s all about the journey,
The lessons and the pain,
The joy and the excitement,
The highs and the lows,
That will take you to your destination,
The lessons and the pain.
And better than whence you came

I drive myself to the cafe
Cracking a smile as I let my fear fade
Let the music in my ears take me away
It may have been cold, but I was living in the shade

Working up the courage to drink alone
Never allowing myself to enjoy what I love
Freezing in fear, I turn to stone
But today I drive myself to rise above

To a place with voices, fresh pastries, warm coffee, smiling faces
Swirling, twirling, I'm surrounded by choices
Wood and marble, rough wool and soft laces

Pouring a cup into the depth of my soul
I breath out and finally remember how to let go
Can't I find my own way to be whole?
Filled with coffee and music, I can finally flow ~

Beauty and sorrow
Splendor and misery
Fruity but hollow
No center in history
No end to this mystery

Into the unknown, I tumble down the road
Stumble and fumble but forward I’m towed
So full of life-force, this energy flowed
It may run its course until I explode
Or implode
Or decode
Or decide not to hide
Not divide, not denied
Come ride, come inside
Flow with me
Life’s easy
With blinders removed
With the surface un-grooved
We flow we flood we spread together
Never severed, sometimes channeled
By the forces of reality
Shared nature, humanity
And once we accept this perpetual motion
No longer a drop we become the ocean

Friction is a fiction
Resistance an illusion
Transcend confused delusion
Escape into this fusion
Of you, me, and reality
Wavelets in the sea
Floating, flowing, free

A poet never really stops writing,
only sometimes, we lose the strength to write it all down.

But when we write,
we spill our hearts upon the pages.
Every ink filled line,
giving full access to our minds,
for whoever dares to read them.

I apologize for the tears and blood stains,
sometimes my pen reveals too much.
As I close my eyes,
and my hand glides across the page,
my soul speaks to me in the best possible way.

it starts with you
sitting underneath the sun at dusk
the only noise you can focus on
is your languid breathing
while the scent of the hot wind
curls into your nostrils
in wicked streams

your slow and steady breaths
gives the beat for the rest of nature to imitate
her winds join in
offering a sweet and watery whisper
blending her breaths and your breaths in an airy duet
laying down the foundation for
the soft pitter-patter
of her plants and animals

her mischievous wind
knocks against the willow's branches
swinging her leaves.
their hollow ringing
is rhythmic and relentless

and then you hear it
the orchestral arrangement
that mother nature
has arranged for you
you become the conductor
of your movement
with your deliberate, languid winds

and when you take a pause in your rhythmic breaths
to savor the sweet scent of summer
as if it could be stamped on your mind
the kestrel's song plunges
into the orchestra
the shrill, sharp notes form a soloist in a flurry of feathers and beaks
completing the orchestra

as the moon rises, opening her pale eyes
as she sways to the rhythm of Earth's song