dailydatewithgod

Sometimes
we have to rewind
find the time
refocus the mind

Step back into the tale
where magic is unveiled
existing beneath the detail
of the systems which prevail

Leading us astray
causing us to forget our way
with such much fray
we think we are only ever afraid

We marvel at children
drawn in by tales
without any hindrance
or needing assurance
They delight in the mystery
and don’t worry about the history

Existing in the moment
Not getting pulled away
Is that the secret
to not being always afraid?

The tales we weave
from inside our head
are what we try to leave
when we are afraid

But where can we go
where we will not be?

Our head becomes our foe
unless we turn the key

Open the door and explore
see what the tales are trying to inform

Perhaps like children themselves
they like to play unveiled
searching for a way to cast spells
but have gotten curtailed

We’ve gotten too busy to care
that deep within us
there is magic wanting to prevail
now making a fuss
asking for a way to unveil

an essential part
of our very own heart

With any given choice
There is multiple force
From behind and in front
happening concurrent

What is being chosen
and what is not
might cause you to be frozen
or tied in a knot

Is it possible to separate
what the choice will create
from the choice itself
versus its consequence

It is hard to imagine
all the potential scenarios
firing like a cannon
or blaring music from a stereo

The potential cacophony
emanating from the colony
inside one’s own mind
is enough to consign
from ever making up your mind

Choices are chances
potential dances
of consequences
and expansions
ramifications and
possible answers

Leading to more choices
with or without more voices

Choosing to opt out
is of course allowed
but that choice must be made
and has its own cascade

So you see
dear one
there is a sea
of options

But the question remains,
what strain
of consequences
will you unleash today?

Relationships
Wish they were like ships
knowing how to ride the waves
to navigate through stormy days
when rain comes to contemplate
raising the stakes
questioning if we can relate
without the ship in place

Maybe its the anchor
which keeps the banter
from becoming slander
opening the door for candor
we can handle
without getting rambled

Is it the sails
flowing like veils
moved by the wind
showing us where to begin?

Standing on the deck
compass in hand
realizing the full effect
of what it means to be captain

Setting the course
adventuring tour de force
to explore and discover
through unchartered water

Looking beyond into the deep blue
Reflecting back to us
how much we don’t have a clue

Though the muse may be external
our true anchor is internal

We are the ship
doing our best to navigate
attempting to relate
and get a grip

Sailing in the unknown
getting out of our head zone
Relating one to one
our minds are blown

Resources of the heart
call for a restart
Moving us to embark
Past the known parts
Finding more watts
to power up what we forgot

that this kind of sailing
calls for an unveiling
of our soul

I’ve heard insight is hard won
or was it insight is a hard one?

The question is who gets to say
what qualifies as insight?
We may be exposed to it all day
but not realize it until the night

What if what you feel is insight
feels to me like a distinction of light
which might
take flight
if viewed in hindsight

How much might
does insight fight
to get it right
in this light?

What if someone completely misses the sign
which outlines
how much time
it takes to define
the nuance provided by time
distinguishing insight mere hindsight

Are they in cahoots together?
Maybe that is whether
people even use the word cahoots
to introduce
the concept altogether

This all seems like an elaborate roost
to disprove
and show to be a fluke
that the power of insight
cannot be defined
along general lines

It is particular within each heart
as is anything daring to move from dark
to light

Got issues?
Quick get the tissues

Or maybe it is our tissues
which shows us our issues

Tomato versus Tomato
Potato versus Potato

Shall we call the whole thing off?

Or admit to ourselves
That hidden in our shelves
Are our cells
making noise like cowbells
begging for attention
Because we pay no notion
or quiet the commotion
by numbing the motion

Pain
the great equalizer
not swayed
by the analyzer

so does it matter if the issue
is in our heads or in our tissues?

Like fear it requires courage
a willingness to nudge
to notice what we begrudge
and maybe even judge

If the cowbells had words
what would be their terms?
what do they observe
that requires them to be heard?

Instead of numbing
or running
could we become loving?
before our cells start buzzing
or even cussing?

words and screams
almost too obscene
past the point of no return
where we can no longer learn
how our body is prompting us to yearn

For a deeper knowing
a dive into the groaning
a message coming
directly
from
our
souls

Is it grief?
Yet no one died
Is that a relief
or a reason to cry?

The ability to feel
basic human quality
Sometimes seems unreal
like a foreign entity
Embracing it is a task
one best faced unmasked

Told to like the good ones
and get rid of the bad ones
But if all allow us to go deeper
why do we run like it’s the reaper?

A challenge to be sure
but what else are we here for
meant to grow and stretch
discover what has not yet been met

Maybe it is the tool we choose to use
to face the unraveling rule
of riding the emotions
to places in motion
no fixed beginning or end
too hard for the head to comprehend

Bring our hearts to the task
there is suddenly the room
for what gets unmasked

Good or bad is no longer the criteria
only what calls us to meet
the seeming inner hysteria
with acceptance and noncompete

Inhabiting a beat that likes to groove
a space where no one needs to prove
we can be carried through
to a new point of view

One that makes room for all of who we are
not worried about others seeing our scars
only how to transform them into bright burning stars

A poem about love
are you for real?
I can already hear the whimsy
Get ready for the schpeel

Rainbows and butterflies
hearts and unicorns
flying all around
trying to find a landing place
so we can start to find the line
at which we align
with what emanates from the divine

Beyond a silly rhyme
how dare we try to define
the very essence
of the omnipresent

Is it fixed or scattered?
What part of it matters?

Depending on the time
whether giving or receiving
all of the sublime elements
to be found in the creasing
of the imprint left behind

Is it about the moment
the truth
the belief
or the proof?

Do its’ properties change
amidst the exchange?
Heavily dependent
on who is the intended

Understood upon reflection
to be wholly misunderstood
Like the presence of the wind
Felt on the skin
With no clear sight of source
to blame for the change in course

The waves of the divine
attempting to dance with time
Seeing if the shifts
causing one to feel adrift
only long enough to grasp
trust there is one more gasp
before it is all past
and in the end
we all feel the mend

I must confess
I find myself off track
It’s a bit of a mess
and I feel out of whack

The question remains
Can I get back in the lane
where things feel more sane?

When ducks are not in a row
There are lots of noisy quacks
Searching for the know
to put things back on track

Maybe the point
is not to get out of joint
just because the ducks
stopped forming a row

Looking for the meaning
without it seeming
like being lost
has too great a cost

We have been sold the line
of how important it is to find
the path we are meant for
which helps us discover more
about ourselves and about the world
apparently, it is about having and doing more?

We hide behind
an incorrigible bind
preaching like pungent wine
Exclaiming: “Its a crime
you have not figured out why
your song does not rhyme!”

What if the song you are meant to sing
is more like a jazzy syncopation
something with a little bling bling
moving away from the constipation
of following the design
which says we must be confined
to simply falling in line

If it doesn’t work out
You can always go back
Get all ’em ducks en route
And listen to ’em quack

Giving up is not an option
or is it?
Some days feel like we’ve come undone
But I promise you little one
There is plenty to be done

To discover
To uncover
To be one over

It is our soul
It is our heart
It is the truth of who we are

Musings and fuming
comes along for the ride
Turning and cycling
Is part of the dive

Deep into the truth
Like the root of a tooth
Painful at times
But we learn to find

The rhythm to our rhyme
The way we can define
how best to realign
with how the divine
sees our eyes,
our ears,
even our emotions and fears
grumbling in our stomach
letting us know we are at a summit
We daringly climb
despite the twists and turns we will find

Trust me when I say
There is a greater way
For us to rise
To make hay
To step away
from who we thought we were
defined only by circumstance
which said we didn’t have a chance

Listen carefully
as I hold you gingerly
there will come a time
when you freely step back
able to trust in the fact
that I always have your back

Able to play
In unimaginable ways
Let go on the swings
Play hide and seek without the scary

Life will take on a new hue
And you will ask who
is defined by the circumstance

Not me

I am free
Able to be me
Enjoying me
Pleasuring me
Getting to know me
As more than who I thought I could be

Unwinding with time
we will find
what it means
to live and move free

Free in the body
dancing with the holy
A sacramental in motion
Beauty in flight
Without any notion
of ever being hindered by the night

When ideas are batched
and presented in a flash
It is hard to tell with the splash
if they are all matched

We find ourselves smashed
reacting to a gash
when what was hatched
was put together half-@$$

We lose our self-composure
With repeated exposure
Over and over
to content so polar
do we expect our psychomotor
to respond like it’s sober?

At best its mediocre
hopefully without an odor
possibly driven by a poser
known as a twitterosa

Ensconced in what’s trending
No point in mending
Leaving it all with an ending
we were not intending

Do we dare try to do better?
Maybe remove the pressure
Come back together
Remember the pleasure
of pausing long enough to measure
and strive with up to 280 letters
to match with a greater good endeavor