Poetry
Writing to, from, and about the parts within. Sharing to normalize the healing process.
Out Now: How To Write Evocative Poetry
Your Actions Are A Prayer
Your actions are a prayer,
To the Gods of functionality.
Your mind, your body, your spirit.
Honour them.
Wake early.
Sit in silence.
Then move,
Attend the iron church, or run, or dance.
The Gods smile upon those who act.
You are what you do.
So study your craft.
Work on your craft.
Share your craft.
Take criticism and praise in the same breath,
You are neither as good or as bad as they say.
Embrace the daily grind.
Work when nobody’s looking.
Work when nobody cares.
Work when you are doubting yourself.
Work, because to you, work is play.
Push through all resistance.
The lights are never all green.
There is always a reason to stop.
Don’t.
Your actions are a prayer.
You are what you do.
So act like the best version of you.
This is the true power of
Faking it until you make it.
Of embodying your true calling,
Of greatness.
This change will take time.
There is a lag between action and reward.
And when it does come,
It won’t be announced with fanfare.
Growth will be incremental.
Small gains,
Tiny improvements,
Minute advancements.
This is as it should be.
So act.
Act as a prayer to the Gods of functionality.
And have faith.
Faith in the process,
Faith in the future,
Faith in yourself.
And remember,
You are what you do.
Writing Therapy
Writing Therapy.
Just words on a page,
Or something more?
The page listens,
The page absorbs,
The page doesn’t judge.
The page can be discarded,
The page can be shared,
The page can be reread.
The act of writing heals.
It pulls the demons out.
It exposes them to the light.
It reveals them for what they are.
Fabrication.
Rumination.
Improbability.
Regret.
The act of writing instructs.
It informs our current state.
Shows our inner workings.
Forces us to be precise.
After writing comes the review.
By looking back we see the truth.
Of how far we’ve come.
Of our varied and ever changing moods.
Of different aspects of ourselves.
We see that we are more complex than our current mental state can possibly comprehend.
So write.
Write without judgement. Without pause for grammar or spelling. Without thoughts of what is appropriate or right. Without care for its readability. Without concern for the judgement of others.
It is the act of writing that counts, not the quality that you produce.
No one has to see it.
So just write.
The Gift and the Choice
When you can see your future,
How do you choose?
Every option has suffering.
Every path leads to death.
Exponentially branching,
Your vision fades,
The deeper you go.
You can’t hold it all.
You don’t have the processing power.
It hurts you, this gift.
You feel it all, all at once.
So you block it,
Mentally put a stop to it.
You turn away from it,
And curse it.
This leaves you dull,
Blind to the beauty of your choice,
The choice you made,
The choice to turn your gift off.
For there is still life,
There is still love,
Vivid, like a flower in the dirt.
If you only knew
how to look.
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.