travel stills the soul.
and perhaps the journey must break your heart
until it opens,
passed passes me by
and i find myself
on the balcony
in a place, so far from all i knew this year.
it isn’t the end of the journey, oh no. it is only just the start.
i refuse to adjust, to fit back in, to be who i once was.
because there is no going back. there is only now and whatever lies ahead for me.
and i’ll make plans and take steps towards them all,
everyday in this life i knew and know.
i’m happy to be home.
you do realise i live a life out here?
away from all i learnt in all i was and all the places i found myself.
reflection leads to yearning.
it’s all the lessons in all the longing of when i was there. when i was that person. when i lived, day-to-day, in this in between, on-the-move, am-i-dreaming(?) surreality.
but i’m not looking back.
[a red balloon floats across a blue sky awash with white and wispy monet clouds.]
i’m here. it’s now. the wind still blows, i still ask questions and find answers in the movements of the universe as she showers me in confidence, that all i need to know i can find living deep within myself. not in the clouds of the skies but the storms and sunshine that brew and subside along the streams of my blood bursting through veins and clearing from smoke and mirrors emotion.
it has all become so clear, in asking and receiving.
in listening to morning birdsong, to the voice of that evening star.
in respecting the beautiful wishes of my still and beautiful heart.
i was lost
somewhere along the way
and instead of finding the way
i found myself.
in dreaming and in feeling.
i found myself.
half the world is sleeping, i’m the one awake. and it’s hard to make the move to bed… it’s hard without goodnight.
is sleeping, somewhere far away. so i’ll dream of distant dreamers. you sleep i sleep, you wake i wake.
there are those pretty hours in between it all.
now that will never change.
as blue as the sky is as free as i’ll be. when i stop trying and start living. finally. what am i waiting for?
go. do. see. be. feel.
and only time can split the past in paths of two or three or four. and we won’t know until we see it chasing and clawing and knocking at the door to our hearts, so fragile, and beating, bleating, bleeding buckets of hope. so deaf to sounds other than love and fate.
oh my soul – utterly, profoundly, exotically yearning.
why are you there and not here and a dream and not real and a thought and not mine to have. to steal your heart, your soul, everything you’ll give in all your deepest breaths.
mine is yours.
but dreaming is too much fun.
one day i’ll be dreaming in french. my thoughts so wholly contained, so wonderfully occupied [by words i don’t know just yet].
we’ll fall in love in french, under the eiffel tower and a blanket of stars. dizziness and loveliness wrapped in the smell of cut grass and croissants. wrapped in serenity. wrapped in whispers, dopey smiles and the silver glow of the moon.
and when i forget to try, those words will fill my mind, they’ll fill my heart, and so easily they’ll flow. you’ll see.
one day when i’m dreaming in french, i’ll be dreaming of you.