The WatcherI see what you cannotI watch all that crosses my pathI am the only and every women hereThe scales are in my handsCentaur who taught so many is a part of meI represent all that is feminineBirth-DeathWhat was and is yet to bePerfect in my imperfectionsRight even in my wrongsI see what you do notOr maybe what you wont...The Goddess you try to denyI am VirgoThe Watcher
HiddenEyes that cannot meetHiding secretsand powerand fear
ProcrastinateTomorrowI will get my house in orderI will finish things I've startedTomorrowI will try harder for my husbandI will make an effort to talk to my motherTomorrowI will tell those important to me that I love themand why and when it became soSo many things to doBut not todayTomorrow is soon enough
Just BreatheBe stillAnd know that I am.We have all heard this before,But do we listen?Take yourself outdoorsRemove your shoesAnd stand on the EarthBe seated if you mustFace the EastBreatheClose your eyesFeel the tension you carryImagine it leaching out of youBack into the EarthListenTo the sounds of the night birds and insectsThe way the wind moves through the treesRustling the grassBreatheMan made sounds recedeThe noise in your head, it quietsImagine yourself holding an orb of light in your right handYou can feel a tingle in your palmFocusImagine it is a ball you holdFeel the weight of itIt oozes powerIt is part of youBreatheEnvision that orb growingAllow it to surround you with its faint glowThe last of your tension leaves youYou are protectedSafeLift your face up to the skySlowly open your eyesBreatheThe Moon is watching youYou among manyYou are not aloneOpen your other sensesTaste the humidity on the airSmell the residual heat of the dayFeels the Eart
Thunder MoonThere is nowhere to hideShe can see youThere is nothing inside youShe can't feelAll you have doneShe has witnessedHer judgementcould reign down upon youAs a motherShe forgives andmoves on.Don't forget she is watching.
Random thought... LifeWhen life gives you lemons...makeLemoncello.
Nothing personal...I stand here, at the edge of your grave. Thinking of all you had done to me. What you took.The silence of the crowd gathered behind me is almost palpable. Those few that recognize me, those that remember
they almost hold their breath, waiting to see what I will do. How I am going to react. Among them, there is one or two wondering why I am even here. For a moment I do too. Standing still momentarily lost to my memories and time. Thinking; that there is nothing personal in either death or honor.With that thought in mind, I turn to leave. Hearing the gasp from one who knew
They can now all see what my reaction is. Like a survivor of war, I came to make sure you were really dead. Having seen and confirmed with my own eyes, I smile and walk out.
DetentionDetention... where society sends, not the kids it does not know how to deal with, but the kids they don't want to deal with. I have been coming here since I was little. Twelve really; that seems like a lifetime ago. I feel as if I have grown up here and in a way, I suppose I have. This is my family. One or two murderers, a couple dealers, sometimes these two are interchangeable. There are more than a few thieves and some that I dont think I really want to know the details of... We almost all use.There is no emotion here. We are just going through the motions. That is not exactly true though... We feel hate here; lots of it. It feels like that is all we know how to do here. It keeps us going. It also keeps us coming. And it is exhausting. But we are learning; to feel other things. Things that look a lot like hope, only it&
Question to myself...What is itabout methat makes meso hardto love?