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Poems: The Shifting of Tides
Life is a Journey not a Destination
Like any journey, you may encounter all kinds of roads, bumpy, dirt, one-way, two-way, dotted with waterways, or even a dead end. And on this life path, you will meet up with all kinds of people who will challenge you in ways you cannot imagine, shaping you into the person you are meant to be. Hard as it is, we are forced to embrace the process of change and the shedding of the once familiar.
So, travel with me through the wreckage, through the ebbs and flows that profile a life in transition.
Tides and Redirection
Like harvested rainwater, our love, once a rich and inviting estuary has now been channeled into storage, fragile, stagnate, inchoate.
Ah, my heart wails, longing for powerful currents to return, releasing me from this tormented exile.
Gentle muse and inspiration of my life, I beseech you to come back home, this, my encomium and invitation to reenter the flow of life again, to me and with me, feverishly exploring all that is in front of us, painting newer and broader brushstrokes across the vastness---the bodies of water formerly traveled.
We mustn't settle into such stillness or yield to an ambivalent state. This will only serve to erode our precious love; instead, let me steward you back, take your hand in mine, and together we will ride the tides back to connubial bliss.
Once the greatest love of my life, an energy that happily filled every fiber of my being, has now eroded into something that is grossly unfamiliar, ominous, cruel, drowning in its own rotted excrement.
Passion has been replaced by cold indifference and the rhythm that once united two genuine souls has been extinguished. The period of morning appears to be endless as the disintegrating energy torturously dissipates into the universe like the suffocating last breaths of a passing soul.
And the once robust and succulent life force is now in a state of devolution, blackened morbidity, slowly decomposing and shedding itself into unrecognizable toxic particles until it will reach its final stage, leaving nothing good behind to salvage, not even the beautiful and once ebullient byproduct of its tantric union.....
I cast my troubles out on to the carpeted fields, its fertile beds and blossoms beckon me home to heal.
I am surrounded by the sounds of nature, the enchanting bellows of the honeybees as they descend from the sky above and nestle into the lush blooms, sucking fervently at the reservoir of sweet nectar within. Oh, the monarch wins my total adoration as it joyously serenades each vibrant petal with its captivating primal dance, a symphony worthy of praise and akin to a great master.
Ah, I am at home here in my garden amongst the fertile forms of life that nurture me and inspire me to grow along with them, removing each of my casings, layer by layer, revealing the naked innocence that has been buried, lying dormant all these barren years.