
Maybe if you looked at the world
like you would at a glass snow globe
You would understand,
That we share the same sky
And the same snow blankets us all
And we aren’t all that different from each other
Poetry on love, life and mental wellness
Maybe if you looked at the world
like you would at a glass snow globe
You would understand,
That we share the same sky
And the same snow blankets us all
And we aren’t all that different from each other
My love,
There is a grand story being written here
You won’t see the pattern in it’s ebb and flow
You won’t be able to guess at its ending
but you will walk the paths you have to walk
and as all good tales go,
one day you will find yourself standing on the last page
and as you live out your last breath
you will realise,
you have been staring at the ending all along
And I guess,
I know what it is to be content.
It is to be full of love and light
To look into the eyes of a loved one
And see it reflected back at you
It is to laugh, loud and helplessly so
To be alone with a book that mirrors your soul
To walk on empty roads, not alone,
but with your presence at your side
To be away and yet at home
People pass like time
Like running water
Like drafts of wind on a summer night
Like a wisp of smoke trailing heavenward
And all that’s left in their wake
is the fragrance of their presence
A distant memory of their touch
On your life
People pass like time
Like running water
Like drafts of wind on a summer night
Like a wisps of smoke trailing heavenward
O weary traveller
Your soul lifted
To allow your spirit to roam free
untethered in distant lands
and you;
you uprooted yourself
And lost your way home
so you wander
Lost and unfound
Let’s run away
You, from your thoughts
Me, from myself
We all need a break sometimes
Nobody knows where we’ll go
And we’ll pretend we don’t know the rules
We will find, a home away from home
She was the girl who survived,
the one who lived to tell the tale,
and was assumed the stronger for it.
Little did you know –
you could breathe life into a paper girl
but you could never make her real.
She would always be made of paper,
always susceptible to flames.
Maybe it will be
in the silence of a noisy road,
in the stillness of a crowded hospital,
in the vibrancy of the same four walls,
wherever it is though,
wherever you find your peace –
center yourself.
Since young, I have been told to make the “right decisions”. And for the longest time, I have done just that. I would put my needs second to anybody else because that was the right thing to do. I would not argue with my parents because it was the right thing to do. I forced myself not to hold grudges because it was the right thing to do.
But there is a huge problem with making the right decision. The right decision is an arbitrary aggregate of the decisions of a group of individuals. What is considered right changes with our society, our culture, our religion and the company we keep. Making decisions based on what is right is essentially comparing it to the decisions of tons of other individuals and seeing if it matches. Why should we have to do that? Why should anybody else’s decision determine yours?
The only decision you should be focusing on is your own. If you had to make your decision, do it based on what feels good to you.
What do you call this?
This waiting on the edge of my seat,
fingers drumming in anticipation,
mind alert, eyes wide open
What is it that I am waiting for?
What adventures are headed my way?
What should I seek next