So futile
This mind
That runs away
Blind
Yet proselytising
As if I have some great experience
That may aid you with yours
Yet
Behind closed doors
I am just the same mind
Jumping to conclusions
About everybody else
Just like everybody else
We are every bodies
In our own damn self
And with so many facets
Looking at these things
Which exist
Within
Russian dolls
Nestling in
A thousand facets
Under the skin
And under
And under
And under
Layers within layers
Running deep
How can we assume
Anything
About anyone
And what’s the point?
When the whole purpose of resurrection
Is to rise
Light things drift
I will never in a million years
Be able to obtain lift
With all these heavy thoughts
Weighing me down
Standing on the edge of a cliff
My wings spread out
“Lift”
I direct
But I cannot rise
Feathers fall
Skeleton wings crumble
And a thousand years pass
Still I stand here
Throwing all these heavy thoughts
Useless stones
To join the many below
“Lift”
I say
An old woman
With an old voice
And still
My hands keep clutching these stones
It seems to me that there is some heavy stones and weights t drop.
We tend to take on weights that cannot not be carried.
Miriam
It’s funny Miriam – once you realise what they are – they drop – realisation is like that
So very familiar…
Oh yes, it seems the stones are a choice to carry, even if it’s an unconscious decision. But once we realize it’s been weighing heavy for so long, we are finally able to release it.
That’s a wonderful piece of writing Miriam. I love the Russian dolls concept…. ..Meditation has made me a little lighter this year. Some of the stones have become more like pebbles.
Meditation is wonderful for lightening up
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