I am not ready to talk about how I am feeling now, I am not ready to share this part of my journey. So instead I look back, to a time when all was well and everyone was present, with no idea of the loss that awaited, that loomed over us. The innocence of living life, without the fingers of death circling my back and making it's way up along my spine.

I am aware of the natural cycle of life, when it comes to the seasons and the rhythmic dance that we as individuals preform over and over again, to lose parts of ourselves, to let go and shed so that we can be reborn again, stronger. This is what I embrace , what I welcome.

The other is too raw and painful. So I look back to those times when I spoke of the roads I took

My eyes close
What lies ahead?
A haze of remembrance forming in my head,
A vibration that travels deep down in my being,
I will continue to be at one with this feeling.

Are we walking blindly?,
do we trust each way?,
Do we listen for the direction
that our bodies strive to say?

I see the many roads that lay in front of me,
One way that tries to speak to me,
Of hidden dreams wrapped up in gold,
that promises of comfort when I surrender all control.

This road that shines and speaks of wealth,
of keeping us all content,
No need to worry about what may be,
this road will lead you always away from me.

I have travelled many roads,
I have searched for ideals,
searched for answers to my dreams.
And all the while the answer lay inside,
no need to travel far away
just the need to meet myself each day.

I remember my talk of connecting to the wild, of knowing my place in this world, my roots, my foundation made strong. This is what I need right now, to remember.

I am of no religion,
I am of this earth.
My faith lies in the cycles
of the moon and the sun,
In the many Miracles that happen,
from day to day.
I am part of nature
it is my Way.

The earth feeds me,
she nourishes and sustains me,
I feast on her knowledge
and allow her to guide me.

I am anchored,
My feet act as my roots.
I dig deep with my intentions,
my actions bare fruits.

Remembering the words I wove, that speak my truth, that seek to understand and unite. My creative expression, my way of coping with life, of healing myself and making sense of those things that make no sense at all.

What happens when I drop this pen
Do I return back to the beginning again.

What happens If I fail to see
the way in which I Chose to be,
Has carved my way and caused my life
to sail towards my idiosyncrasy.

Sometimes I am confused
by what comes out
as if I ever had a doubt
that power lies in words I spin,
that in taking part one ever wins,

The walking blind are still not in sync,
yet never would they pause to think,
that what they reap is what they have sown,
that all this destruction is their own.

The night draws in
and shadows form,
this fleeting thought
is now the norm,
Yet flickering lights
confuse my senses
by letting go
the darkness cleanses.

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