Am I supposed to waken
from this rotten slumber,
this dormant period
that feels like death itself;
painfully stirring,
moving with caution,
not feeling rested;
not enough,
not yet,
not ready for rebirth,
nor rising,
not even thinking of transformation.
All I feel is
the need to be still.
No sap filling up inside me,
no buds, no shoots
just dead, old, deep roots,
my old bones in my old boots.
Let me sleep more
and dream of awakening.
To be continued...
Into the new year I slide
Brave and strong but torn inside
All is well and all shall be well
The mantra I chant as I dwell
Into the uncertain, misty eyed
The truth is that some in me died
And so renew, refresh, forward I go
Rising from the depth of the weight
Past, present and future, I know
I shall be patient, I'll wait
The rituals begin, the resolutions start
The riddance, the gracious art
Of recognizing what serves me now,
and what not, which and how
...
And the cycle continues as before
Now and more, ever after
what is coming is like an encore,
only rich of knowns, and deja-vu
and terrible boredom of events past
melting into now, feeling stuck
in a garbage pool of cynicism
present times recycled crap
presented as something original,
yet regurgitated and thrown
in cyber winds of un-change
The truth is that instead of fighting
I surrender, and remain here
In my capsule, with my own thoughts
My wisdom is sacred and it is my own
I bow in gratitude, to my self
And my past teachers
I am here, now
No need for answers, or debates, or quotes
just being, just living
Watching the past, the present and future
Like I watch the Sun and the Moon and the winds in the sky
Just me, with my heart and and third eye
