What is, what was,

What will be.

Reality not realized without acknowledging it

 

The ocean is as deep as one dives into it.

 

Inspiration itself comes from an unknown place;

And feeds the soul of one 

and all,

in unique ways, 

in knots and waves.

 

The esthetics, the genetics, and the concepts 

of all sorts of “pathetics”

is a vastness that drowns the entire universe.

The matrix.

 

Only a child’s understanding can launch and linger in

the currents of sweet imaginations.

 

So complex.

Defying all precepts.

So messy.

Dis-and-organized connects.

Void, but a complete grace

to fill it up with what one makes.

 

The chasing of the wind won’t satisfy 

The intentionally driven pond

 

But that’s because their souls are still,

just right 

To soar upright, eagle-like fearlessly, 

up high.

 

I realized…

 

I see,

That what inspires me is thee.

The great variety of sounds and word choice resound

puzzled creatively, a masterpiece,

the wisdom’s melody unraveling.

 

When I write of what thoughts flow

It skips a beat, and sings a song.

Poetry allows a pause,

Gives me joy, and satisfies.

 

There’s no telling of when time is up

Don’t stop abiding, or you’ll fall to a dull trap

Of a busy busy busy life 

When all is here and there and gone

But you haven’t stopped to soak it in and rightly grasp.

 

So sit awhile. Breath and be.

Dance in the possibilities of imagination

Founded on the wisdoms and life’s revelations.

 

The esthetics, the genetics, and the concepts 

of all sorts of “pathetics”

in a vastness that drowns the entire universe.

The matrix.

 

The ocean is as deep as one dives into it.