SuziCate's Musings

Posts tagged ‘spirit’

Exist

I am the rising dawn Emerging and exposing One thread of life at a stretch Towers of time through which I filter Newly dewed grass on which I settle Do you see what I really am Or the afterglow of what I was? Am I but the invisible air From which all life thrives?

I am the rising dawn
Emerging and exposing
One thread of life at a stretch
Towers of time through which I filter
Newly dewed grass on which I settle
Do you see what I really am
Or the afterglow of what I was?
Am I but the invisible air
From which all life thrives?

In Search

Light and shadow dance across the spirits of whom seek to find thy self.

Light and shadow dance
across the spirits of whom
seek to find thy self.

Perceptions

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I do not know the weight of mud,

the way they say it sucks you down

and throws upon you what you’ve outgrown;

but I do know the weight of blood,

how it ties you to life, to love,

and to people you’ve never known.

 

I know too well the lapse of days,

the way minutes disappear into years

and the shrinking time leads my fears;

but I do not know if spirit stays

when bound to this plan, to this love

of listening to what the heart hears.

 

I do not know the flight of bird,

the arc of wing or speed of air

or if he flies without a care;

but I do know the might of word,

whether it was kind and fair

or when spoken pain was spared.

 

I do not know the stretch of trees,

if their long arms dare to hug the sun

while underground roots continually run;

but I do know the catch of please,

how you are obligated to do or be done

as if you were ever really anyone.

 

And yet I know the cost of wind,

what is lost when  breath lets go

and that which was will cease to know;

and better, I know the frost of sin

when all bitterness returns to snow.

In the cold, life and love still grow.

Spirit Song

When your spirit sings a song the heart has written before time began, like a butterfly you grow wings of color and you begin to soar.

When your spirit sings
a song the heart has written
before time began,
like a butterfly
you grow wings of color and
you begin to soar.

Reaching

Sometimes we spiral and grope toward the light like a hole in the woods.

Sometimes we spiral
and grope toward the light like
a hole in the woods.

Fallen

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Scattered, but intact

Except for a bruise or two

That show one has lived.

One must plunge to earth

To gather his wings for flight

To the depths of soul.

Containment

Mountain weekend 092

Build a wall of stone.

Try to contain my spirit.

My love will seep through.

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