Winter Moon

Perhaps it is the past that makes me so groggy.

So tired.. And cold as I slip into the air of winter.

I am looking up at the sky now. 

My hands feel the flattening vapors.

Dripping off my fingers is water

cool as a fresh sky with no clouded matter.

I close my eyes.

I imagine the pull

between that bright gleaming face

of the moon's luminous lull.

Which side it is we see?

The surface appears like a face.
A concept we can understand
as the soul needs answers for this place.
So far under, we are
separated from the darkest high.

I am the underwriting of the light.

Such are the things that go passing by.

~ B

For December.

Energy

I am a beacon to my dreams.
I am calling them home
and those who are flowing with bliss
are helping me shift my consciousness.

They are the children of me that were
co-created with my desires.
The aura of this mystery
can be felt through a majestic power.

I believe I am being taught
the physical proof of myself
so that I can heartily serve
the needs of my psychological health.

To get through the day
I think thoughts that want to be free.
If you know your dreams are neglected
further understand your piece of insanity.

Animal binds with hybrid minds.
I'll say it again without speaking
the words do the work on the physical lines
but inside a wet needle is encrypting.

This is the coding
that is waiting for the future.
Bringing out what is being held
in a vacuum of volcanic pressure.

~ B

For December.

The Humanitarian

She sees the walks of life
And admires all of their beauties.
Within them is herself
She hears the voices of her continuity.

She listens to herself
That's why she seems so collected.
A woman who counts her trials and her errors
Is the one who knows the heart she has manifested.

Nurtured and nested
Are those who come to stay or to go.
When a woman works on her character
She lets them be with all they have to show.

As the stage lights up
Her eyes open; she is about to start.
To breathe among a grueling humanity
Is to present what she has in her heart.

Black as coal is the soul.
Light as silver is her mold.
She shapes her words
To manage the ideas she can hold.

Limited with abundance.
A perspective you can come to indulge.
Slowly will food for thought filter.
Vigilant is a good heart with a stomach full.

Prepared was the work.
Dutiful is the world.
Speaking kindly is the soul
Who believes you are precious as a pearl.

~ B

Liquid Thought

Drip..drip..
The faucet of my thoughts is leaking.
Water is flowing over the skin
Within the textures of my cellular vision.

Atomic.
I feel chemicals splash my face.
Absorbing more life
That seeps through against a natural strife.

Someone is pouring water into space.
To see it floating away
Back from where it is coming.
To be seized by its own sprout; running.

In a clearing drips this dream
Though in space it is disappearing.
Recognized in its worldly form.
Water is resurfacing and reappearing.

This is the cycle.
This is the knowing.
Diluted and awoken
Is this that is flowing.

~ B