Lost On Purpose Let me feel the subtle slipping, soft as breath against a seam, Where the self I thought was solid fades to something less extreme. I have stood inside these moments, felt their quiet, pulling sway - Every time I call it ending, something in me leans to stay. Not as I was formed to hold it, not as I was taught to be, But as something far more patient, loosening its need to see. There’s a strange and tender absence where the edges used to start, Like a question left unanswered pressing gently at the heart. I have tried to name the feeling, tried to anchor, tried to bind, Built a thousand careful structures just to steady what I’d find. But they faltered - not in breaking, more like softening their claim, As if form itself grew weary of pretending it was frame. And it found me - every time - quiet, unannounced, and clear, Not a force of devastation, but a presence drawing near. Not removing, not unmaking, only asking me to see What might happen if I loosened what I thought I had to be. There’s a crossing in the silence, there’s a thinning of the thread, Where the past becomes a language I have long since learned and read. And I linger there, suspended, not in absence but in trust, As the shape I wore so tightly turns to memory and dust. Still I’m here - though something shifts me, still I’m here - though something’s gone, Not diminished, not divided, but continuing as one With the quiet, constant motion I once struggled to oppose, Now a rhythm I surrender to, a current that I chose. I have lost myself so often that the word has come undone, For there’s something in the losing that returns me to the One - Not a place and not a purpose, not a fixed or final form, But a deeper kind of knowing I have always carried warm. So when once again it finds me - that familiar, sacred blur - I don’t reach for old defining, I don’t ask it to defer. I allow the gentle shifting, let the boundaries release, And I follow where it takes me - not to find it, but to cease

Flashpoint You’re like lightning! You’re enlightening, exciting, Even frightening in your way. You’re eclectic, electric, Hectic in behavior, But a savior Of the darkest Moments, in a way. I admire your light. Fast and flashy, Dashing through the dark, Brightening like day. You drift with the shifting Current within, And before you begin, I feel you Like static on my skin, And the cool of the rain. And you thrill me, Fill me With so much I want to say, But you’re like lightning… You don’t stay.

Use this line to begin a poem, story, or freewrite: “I never meant to open that door, but once I did, everything changed.”

(Wrote this one sometime last year or so.) Equal Ground I've seen strange omens, obscured shapes stark and harsh; Shadows, out of reach, slinking edges of the marsh. Oddly homey, low, wet lands that offer little purchase, With withered trees and skittering things littering every surface. Here's both a sense of longing, and belonging. Though, I, with some surprise, trust my senses not to wrong me. Steeled with words of wiser ones, unwavering in character, I sink into untended soil, stand on shifting earth, Writhe and wade, swaying on my wayward legs between directions, Leaving signs that I have been, little more than impressions. I heave, and leave my ripples in even time and measure, Follow them to shores they lick in a bit of gentle gesture. I climb and clamor, cutting mountains down to manageable height, Raising hills to match horizons, opening my line of sight. With each and every stumbling step, I bend, and brace for landing; But any ground is equal ground, as long as I am standing.

This is one of my most recent ones. Not sure where it came from. The words just sounded out of the aether. Tender Aspects Let me feel the ancient, aching silence; I will hold my breath. For a moment, soft and patient, Time could leave me be. There's not long to wait, Before the voice breaks, And the frequency returns with force - A call both familiar and new I can't ignore. Take me apart at the seams, And have the patience to witness the weight of the crossing. This is enough, the promise of shelter, And a feeling that my hands remember. Find me trembling - quietly ready, awake - Catching on to what keeps in the dark, Birthing beauty from the unrefined, And grasping at the furthest edges in wonder.