ENCHANTED WORD

Nearly all of my poetry

Is meant to be

Doubly

Spoken and sung

That’s how it breathes.

That’s how it's done.

It begins as emotion

In my womb, 

In my heart, 

And I dance

To give it form,

Purpose,

Spark.

The dance is a ritual

That I quite enjoy.

For it employs

A creative whole

That most ignore.

And then I give birth

To something

New and old

The words were always here;

The new is the story told.

Vision, in an instant, gave me desire for you. But as your mind poured into me–and as you drank from mine–desire bloomed into something lasting and true.

…but that’s my little secret..

The tablet of my heart can be read by the OMniscient One.

..so I believe...

What is there to fear?

I want to dance in the wild

and let mind usher forth from my mouth..

and lose and make, create.

I want to let go

and forget this tongue

and this life..

I die. I die.

Make past this me....Make past this me.

Make fast my Free.

What is there to fear? What is there to fear?

There is only love--only love...in infinity..

His name remains on my lips and tongue,

The depth of our connection in the recesses of my mind,

Memories on the forefront of my thoughts,

with love emanating from the hollow of my heart..

Alas, I know that my wait has been in vain.

You and your words have been to me like an elaborate castle built from the sands of the ocean shore at high tide.

And with all the might of my mind, I have held back the tide like the tears I have yet to cry.

I remain here, stuck in a seemingly endless loop--a moment in time holding back the tide.

The castle is a beautiful dream and my power ill-spent. I've loved the castle and I've loved the hope that came with it. For that, I am grateful, but the tide must come, and time must roll on. For, who am I to stop the tide?

Is not crying a mild detox?

For with my tears released a pain deeply buried in my gut. I cannot cry like that again, no, not for the same ancient reason. The way is shut.

I cried not a river, but more, but scores! I cried years from infantile bed.

I cried memories and a longing so long forgotten so rocking, It split my head.

I think I wept at night as a child. I think I did before. Now, I weep like the tin man with no tear glands for.. my.. heart..

..the nature of mankind, archaically speaking:

He, exercising such terrible control, such terrible dominion over us, lacks the ability to exercise it in any way over himself.

Bound in our bones are we, and that's the way you prefer. For, otherwise, you would never be worthy of the beauty and abundance carried in Her.

You don't want to become worthy. You only want to inherit the Earth.

She belongs to us, and we are the Earth. You've taken that which you have not earned.

That is why you destroy. For, foolishness is tied up in the heart of a boy.

We are not supposed to need you. The opposite and reciprocal is true.

You made a wooden table, but we have the trees. For, the Earth produces freely for us.. as it always has..as it always will be.

You made the table. YOU brought ME to it...in chains. So, you have cursed me, and I will make the bread. GO and grow and gather the grain!

Catch the fowl, the fish, the beast, and I will make you the feast. Gather the grapes, I'll make you the wine. Bring golden plates to luxuriously dine.

You with the reprobate mind!

You don't have gold? GO forth and dig! For everything is in me. Everything except the pig..in you.

Yes, furs and things to satisfy your greed.

I will even make more people you feed.

People you need to need you. Your frenzy. Your zoo.

"Wild and untameable as the sea" are we.

Is that not an age-old tale?"

I can do it better." "I can rule better than you. I should be loved and worshipped." "I should be God."

Oh, what cursed ground you've sought as your home! Turmoil and suffering is your legacy. Toil and burden your throne.

You created a garden that you refuse to replenish. So, fiercely now will burst through the everlasting Wilderness!

Wild and Untameable as the Sea, the Forest, the Wind.

Wild and Untameable.

As the Sea, the Forest, and the Wind are we.

An age-old tale. Truth will out.The nature of bondage....is impermanence.

I keep your divinity sacred, holy, connected. I keep you morally and mentally sound. I keep you vibrating high as you deal with the present evils of the physical realm.

You are out of your purpose and have thus become a monster. Come back to me.

Re-Member. Collect yourself. Call back your mind. We are the original and perfect dynamic duo.

Return and bathe righteously in my waters once again.

Return and be baptized. Be cleansed.

Your body fits into mine, and from that, we can create...everything. Nothing is sweeter. It is the natural design. It is good.

I've known for a while, but never was it real to me. I heard Truth as a child, and now, Truth, I feel and see.

"Listen to your grandmothers," they say,"From grandma's mouth." Grandmothers lost till today; they came from the North and South.

For words survived from women I never met. In my mother's eyes and these words that she said, they spoke to me, my grandmothers of old. Lest I forget again, they three words told. Three words..

The words, whispered:"Blackfoot and Cherokee"

When all is thought, said, and done,

the quest ends where it began--

with the setting and rising sun.

The quest ends with a question

when I am not where I'm supposed to be.

Adrift in the Sea of Same Thing.

With shores beyond my sight's reach.

Anything is Possible.

It's in my hands and in these glands.

An immaterial oar of morpheus sand.

To manifest the land.

The question begins the quest again.

A question for my soul:

If anything is possible,

Then Why Am I Not More Powerful?