Cerulean

I have soared through cerulean skies
Catching my breath on the
peaks of mountains
With the warmth of the day on my face
I have watched the clouds unfurl their stories before my greedy eyes.
I have inclined my ear to the
music of ravenous thunder
My feet have danced to the
beat of the rain.
I have tumbled in the arms of the ocean as it rolled out it’s lofty promises to
dry in the midday sun.
And when skies grew inky cold I set my course by the
whims of the wind
And hung my hopes on the shining stars

In a world that abounds with infinite possibilities
You
Are my truth.

Star

Sometimes, it doesn’t matter how hard you try . . .

There was a star I reached for
I stretched my arms so far
I wanted to embrace it
And clutch it to my heart
I tried so hard to grab it
I sought to make it mine
My hands outstretched, my fingers
In it’s beams I did entwine
But as I tugged I realised
The mistake that I had made
It’s burning heat seared through my flesh
And made me much afraid

There was a star I reached for
I stretched my arms so far
I wanted to embrace it
And clutch it to my heart
With both my hands I grasped it
This glowing orb of joy
My arms grew weak, the might of it
I knew would me destroy
I let it slip from twixt my hands
For I am not that strong
And further heavenward it rolled
And took my dreams along

There was a star I reached for
I stretched my arms so far
My failure to possess it
Will ever break my heart

Cumulus

I have a tendency to overthink, especially when it comes to things concerning myself. Especially when it comes to how others perceive me. I know full well that how people see me is often not at all how I assume they see me, and yet still it is something that preoccupies far more of my thoughts than it should. I am getting better. But sometimes I cannot help myself. So I am trying to be more deliberate with focusing on others and trying to be more present. Enjoying each moment for what it is rather than trying to analyse everything for subtle hints and clues that mean nothing like what I think they do. Some times I can do this with great success, but other times . . .

Everything is fogged
It is as though I exist in my own cloud –
Carrying it with me wherever I go.
So everywhere I am present, yet detached not involved
All time is passed in this manner
I bear my cloud which excludes me from all I crave
Take it. Please.
For though there is comfort in it’s familiarity,
I do not want it any longer.
I wish to free myself
For when the sun, on occasion, forces it’s way through
I feel for a fleeting moment it’s warmth on my skin.
Yet even before my smile is complete it is
snatched away from me
And the mist envelopes me once more.
How I long to be free of
This unyielding cloud of
self obsession.