Many days I feared my own lack of power over thoughts that tried to control me. I would meditate and listen for guidance. It always centered me and still does to this very moment. There’s no distance too short to conquer. Then, I would pick up a pen. It’s still my way back to remembering who I am:
The longest fall to the top.
Racing thoughts, mindful stop.
Everything left, going right.
Blindful glows, in the darkest night.
Eyes wide shut, hands open fold.
Trusted betrayal, burning blood cold.
Truthful lies, hopes of despair.
Beating heart paused, meaningless care.
Complimented insults, frowning a smile.
Cowarding boldly, honest denial.
Seeing you blindly, your stormful peace.
My past is present, beautiful beast.
(Photograph by: Scott Blasko)