I sit on the crimson roof of my house
that is crammed into a cart too tiny,
it fits, but mostly bulges.

Hitched to a car, being towed,
I am at most peaceful and at most blissful
as a nomad.

I stand and hum One Summer's Day,
whirl in my loose skirt, summoning birds
and holding a dandelion in my hand.

I have friends, or I do not, for I hail them too.
In this strange world where my scribbles move,
I'm more than content that my emotions laughed.

Anger is serene, and Sadness beaming,
until a salt flat, hidden in its vastness,
revealed myself, only the plain me.

And I should've known; I wasn't here.

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and leaves us no choice but to engage with it because it is the game we get to live or die with. It plays with our business, or it is the business itself, and we may not feel it now, but we'll become babies once more, well, some of us, and we'll wonder if maybe this time, we can stop the game.

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The Word in the Dream

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Genuine under anonymity.
Identity revealed.
Self, suppressed again.

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Analysis of what needs not to be solved, you did again.
Because Focus is not your visitor when you ask it to come over.
Apprehension gives its greeting instead.
Look straight not at the assignments,
just search for Relief that stays for 60 seconds.
Next, you give yourself a notice,
"I am here and safe."
Added, "... and I am not a ditz."

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the chameleon is an usher

i stood on the sidelines as the lake introduced me to a chameleon; it's the usher in the theater with many me, and the one to decide which of the many me shall appear, when with me, are they.

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Everyday self-imposed tasks crashed with the tower of duties in my mind park, another accident that stressed me out again.

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I Looked for a Creative Spirit

A parchment and quill spoke to me their wish I could not grant.
So I asked God to deliver me a creative spirit until through my window hovers a star plant.
On my left palm, it rests.
It gleamed with chartreuse and moved again.
Pray, I'll be safe as I met the outside dark.
To my surprise, the sky is a stranger.
Stuffed with the same bloom of stars;
it's an idea-filled land above, and I understood now, what I hold is the creative spirit from the heavens,
and it's not alone.

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An Old Man's Wish

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