my vision is blurry as I type away,
making several spelling errors.
I miss you, and I still love you,
but I know I shouldn't.

Memories are lovely but can’t live in them
There is magic around if your heart is open and your mind wide
When readers react to your work regardless of origin and they are taken by it
Dreams long forgotten come true
When I say I am a writer
The eight year old me remembers all the old notebooks she still owns
I have taken  my own breath away when I say I am a writer
Some dreams come true when you don’t expect them to happen
Later than expected but happening now
Still don’t believe it

The space between us
Electrified dynamic
Broken hearts mended

all my problems
all my insecurities
all my fears
all my hates
all my feelings
and all my loves

Words wash up
on me
Sounds towel off
i hear
Things juxtapose
themselves
What would you do
i gasp
at the temerity
beaching itself
while i
race by

do instigate
something
they say

I just
write on
it

Yes, sleep is the rehearsal of death,
Where conscious moves away and hearts rest.
In the quiet dark, the soul is free,
Like waves of time, a silent sea.

Life is but a dream of night,
Life is but a dream of night,
After life, there is morning bright.
Not to fear, but to trust the flight,
As we sleep, we learn to say goodnight.

After life, our ego dies,
Superego wins in the game of dice.
We reach the eternal, soul feels light.

Hidden was I.
Hide I would.
Hidden I am.
Hiding away.
Hiding myself.
Have a been
Hidden.?Have I
Done the hiding?
Did I hide the
Hidden truth?
Helping to seek;
Not wanting to
Be Found. Both
Knowing and my
Knowing not.
Have I forgotten?
Did I take it
From the Temple?
Dipping in and out,
Hiding myself
Far from myself.
Am I not Self?