Two Leaves

Two leaves float down a river,
Pulled by the current of life.
Sometimes they take the same path,
Sometimes the river splits them up.

Yet even when apart,
They travel together.
Because all paths lead to the source,
Still, each journey may vary.

Where one leaf faces rocks and rapids,
The other leaf faces calm tranquillity.
Where one leaf feels the warmth of the sun,
The other leaf is beaten by rain.

At times, all leaves get stuck,
Blocked by debris or caught on a bank.
Or pulled under the surface and trapped.
At these times the leaves must wait.

Wait for another to knock it free.
Or for the flow to clear the way.
Or for the slow push of time itself,
To gently alter the river’s shape.

Then the leaves will float once more,
This interruption quickly forgotten,
Because the destination is the same,
No matter which path it took.

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You can purchase a print of Two Leaves here

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This poem is from the book Bound To The Wings Of A Butterfly

enough

why can’t
it be enough
to accept
that my life
simply is?

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This poem is from the book A Requiem For What Could Have Been: Poetry For The Broken

release

calm
within the eye
of the storm

joy
vicariously
obtained

warmth
besides
growing fire

clarity
from duty 
beyond self

peace
of a riptide’s
pull

focus
alongside
fear

awe
at primal
efficiency

pleasure
in
pain

release
through acceptance
of death

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This poem is from the book A Requiem For What Could Have Been: Poetry For The Broken

With You

something
must be wrong
with you
how else
would you
see worth
in me

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This poem is from the book Bound To The Wings Of A Butterfly

You Say

You say you love me,
But you don’t know me,
Not the full me,
Not every part of me,
Not as I really am.

You say I should open up,
That I should share,
That I should let you in,
Into my inner world,
Into my mind, my emotions, my everything.

You say you will accept me,
But that’s a lie,
You don’t know me,
Not all of me,
Not the parts you haven’t seen.

Do you know yourself well enough?
How will you react to me?
What will you do when I show you?
What will you think of my darkness?
My pain? My weaknesses? My desires?

No.
You only accept the parts you’ve seen.
Then you make assumptions,
Of yourself,
And of me.

That I’m not that bad,
That there isn’t much more,
That embarrassment holds me back,
That you can save me,
And that you would want to.

It is safer to hide,
To show a just little,
Just the parts that are acceptable,
The parts I have practiced,
The parts that work.

You don’t love me,
You just love those parts,
You just love the surface,
Your love hasn’t touched the depths,
It never will.

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This poem is from the book Bound To The Wings Of A Butterfly

Love Is

Love is a mortgage,
A debt promise of pain.
Paid with interest,
For those you outlive.

Love is making connections
Despite knowing they will be broken.
And it’s the letting go
Of the guilt for doing so.

Love is for the small sacrifices,
That contain the hidden joys.
And the memory that’s both
Blessing and curse.

Love is knowing when to push,
And when you must concede.
The realisation that you’re wrong,
And the leaving of transgressions unseen.

Love is the give and take,
The unspoken word.
The comforts freely given,
And those gratefully accepted.

Love is the discipline to say no,
Through begging, pleading and pain.
And the careful observation,
Of limits reached.

Love is tempered guidance,
A shot at eternity.
And the words of encouragement,
To try once more.

Love is a partnership,
A bonding of the muse.
A step into darkness,
Taken together in faith.

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This poem is from the book Reflections of the Self, The Poetry, Insights, and Wisdom Of Silence

Mantra

Be present,
For now is all that exists.
Grow, enjoy, and act morally.
Drop your ego, listen,
Empathise and forgive.
Trust your intuition and be compassionate.
Nothing more is within your control.
Let it go and just feel.
Accept yourself.

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This poem is from the book Reflections of the Self, The Poetry, Insights, and Wisdom Of Silence

I Am Constant Change

Who am I other than constant change?

Thoughts come and go,
Same with emotion, memory and desire,
I am not who I was a moment ago,
And who I am won’t last.

I am constant change,
I am the thread of time,
Birth to death,
Ever changing,
Ever growing,
Never the same.

I am constant change,
I accept this change,
Embrace it,
Lean into it.

Therefore I won’t delete my past,
It was me,
Just as much me as my desire to delete it,
Who knows what I will think in four minutes?

I am constant change.

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This poem is from the book Reflections of the Self, The Poetry, Insights, and Wisdom Of Silence