Falling Applause

A different shade of forest

Where the leaves in the trees,          
Collide in the breeze

                                                                                           

Creating a crescendo of clapping

  

Almost as if,

They were glad I came

Variant Grade

A perfectionist's thought process;

The sign of progress is to better your prior best
Anything shy of this is less than your abilities and thus establishes your first level of failure
With this,
The depths of failure will always plunge far deeper than the apex of success
This is why a perfectionist is often in the dark
Chipping away at the canyon, but seldom recognizing the beauty in the variant grade

Getting Wet and Loving It

A mother who has lost a child carries the weight of that child in grief
That love does not fade or weaken
It remains a tear in the heart that weeps everyday
Spiritual souls collect these tears and pool them together in a cloud
When the weight of the grief becomes too heavy, the clouds release this abundance of love with showers

So the next time it rains, soak up the love

Wonder World

When you look at me and wonder where I am

I am deep in thought

I am not vacant - I am sold out

I am not distant - I am ever present

In my own world

Built on the stilts of inquisition

Where questions are the foundation of existence

And answers inspire a new development

It Comes From Within

A mother represents pure and simple love.

She is the first to share herself.

The first to feed us, nurture us and touch us.

She is the first to feel the inexplicable and sensational bond with a child.

There is no one else who can claim these things before a mother can

and there is not a child born,

 who has shared these firsts with anyone, other than their mother.

 

In addition to these physiological aspects that a mother bears,

there is also the ethereal, intangible connection of love

that knows no limits, breaks all barriers and lasts eternally

 

Forever connected to our mother's hearts,

their love beats within us

Thinking Hiccups

At times my thoughts,
are like a hiccup
they come out of nowhere
and annoy me
until such time as I can rid them of their pestilent persistence
Shaking them,
only after numerous manipulations of mind and body
The peculiar interlude is not always a welcome guest
But the exodus is always a felicitous feat

Above The Swell

When sadness saturates the soul

Swallowing optimism

Succumb to the seize

Drown in the sorrow of the moment

Reflect

Introspect

And from within the curl of sorrow

Espy the light outside

Float above the swell

Giving rise to a crest of humble gratitude