Before one can flourish, they must know the dirt, they must know the earth; they must lay root. Only once foundation has been established may we reach for the sky. I give thee permission to stand strong and tall, grasping at the sun. Water and rays are all you need most days, but often a … Continue reading The laying of root.
Category: Abstract
fear.
Often we are scared to open ourselves up, living in fear of the day that all good things must come to an end. I feel exotic like a fruity cocktail; sweet, intoxicating and with one sip... ah! that hits the spot. Between my toes is finely ground sand, heated to just the perfect temperature; not … Continue reading fear.
Weetbix and sugar,
All my life I believed that I didn't deserve nutri-grain, that I couldn't obtain nutri-grain; a childhood spent deprived of such luxuries. I never thought I'd be captain, I never thought I'd rise above. A life spent missing the mark, falling short, the usual story of trauma and unrealised potential. Experiences that shaped me, that … Continue reading Weetbix and sugar,
The Tall Poppy.
I am the designer, I am the architect; the one who creates the fabric in which the illusions of our mind dance before us. I am meta, I am the abstract; I am the rules of existence. I see the ends of stories before they begin; aware of the potentialities; how might they manifest? Observer … Continue reading The Tall Poppy.
The marionette.
To feel is such a beautiful thing. Pain and joy are one and of the same; both are born from the same energy, and it is in the same space do we become aware of each. Both are born instantaneously, they are born of the ether, apparently apparating into existence. They appear and without notice … Continue reading The marionette.
The hero’s lullaby.
What would ye say to the half-slain hero? Would thou house him, even for just a night? Doth thou have beer to quench his thirst? Perhaps a bed for him to rest his head, even just for a night? Innkeeper, please spare him a thought, for the half-slain hero is stuck between hell and highwater; … Continue reading The hero’s lullaby.
D the A (Dylan the Armadillo)
When I feel threatened I close up; I'm actually not that different to a small animal, except that I am definitely not small. My walls go up, and my forcefield is engaged. Away, away, pushing away; reflexively I push. I push to protect, I push to protect my belly, where my organs live. My heart … Continue reading D the A (Dylan the Armadillo)
