Just have to wait and see - Jan 26th |
WHO? Who am I? Am I the one who sings songs within my soul or the one who's late to work and tired, so tired of ignorance and deceit. The one who smiles at the sound of a child's laughter or the one who thinks I need to change the now. Am I the one who worries I might forget and frets about whats already been. Am I the one who's mind is full of constant chatter or the one who whispers, "Be calm, my child, all this noise and regret, none of it really matters. What's done is done, and its not what you are, but who you are, my love. Be still and hear the laughter, the wind inspiring the leaves to fall. Walk softly, feel the Earth below, feel the wind inside your soul. Whatever happened to you, dear child, was never who you are. You cannot change the past, young one, for its already been. To waste your life for the morrow, a tragedy. My friend, the now is all you have, will ever have. Be there, and only there, for that is where I live. You live. You and I, we are one. That, my friend, is who you are." Oh, but if it were true, do you think I'd seem crazy arguing with myself? Do you think I'd mind my own voice as it says "Be Calm" when I can't stand my loved ones saying the same? "Shhh, that is the future, made up of many nows. Can you, right now, hear your words and sit, and breathe, be calm?" I can, right now, just be, I guess, if you think that's what it takes. Well, if you think I am crazy, perhaps you haven't met you yet.
________________________________ NOTE: Below is the first version, the rhyming one. I think I like the top one better so use that one for whatever assignment we are asked to do. Thanks Brandy _______________________________ WHO? Who, I wonder, is the soul who lives inside of me Is she the one who whispers soothing words that set me free when I go through my day spinning about what I have done wrong or when I try to break through the mental noise just to write a song. Is she the one who owns my hands when creating words of zen like poetry, without my mind getting in between. And when will I finally meet myself and say thank you and hello, and walk with her side by side for she's one I'd like to know? And who is it that others see at work and in my home? I don't think they care to learn, for to them, I'm me alone. I've heard a silent moment is sufficient to invite our other selves to talk a while if we'd learn to be polite and really listen past the noise of our ego's constant chatter I'd know that I am really she and my ego's not what matters. So when my ego spins and whines and says my story's not worth writing, it is I, the she, that whispers "go to sleep, sweet ego, I've no use for fighting." (work on last four lines) And with my inner critic silent I write with childlike glee till I hear the ego whispering "hello, I am so glad you found me." |