Rose Tears

I am but a rose

Set upon your place

Of non-existence

Of non-reality

Only an image, a ghostly apparition

Made up and invented

I am thornless

Or I am piercing

I am red

Or I am blue

Whispered sweetness

Or casual nonsense

Truth

Or lies

They live if you speak so

I am nothing

I am everything

And you swim in me

All at once

Whether I exist or not

Matters not

Only where you put me

This invisible drifting light

Manifested from your mind’s breath

by Sam

This morning I had a very healing chat with a sweet friend over tea at a local coffee house. She brought me a lovely bouquet from her house, and a red bandana to wipe my tears.

I am an abundance of wavering emotions. In the center is this deep gratitude for having the capacity to connect to beautiful beings of light, and to see my beauty reflected in their souls. I traveled a long road to get where I now stand, capable of seeing my own worth, and in turn, to see the intense magnificence of others’ spirits.

The experience of seeing another as pure light and radiating love is nothing short of a miracle. Everyone seems to have come alive, much like the perineal flower bursting anew after long winter’s snow. With everyone I touch, with each person that touches me, I am finding these beautiful mirrors of beauty, a thousand times a thousand opportunities to embrace the radiance within both myself and another. Along with this journey, comes this continual overwhelming of emotions.

I am much a splintered dam with waters rushing through. I know not what to expect or what to make of what is happening in my reality. But I know enough to stop the mind’s wonderings and questions. I know enough that in speaking my truth, that in honoring my authentic self, authentic needs and desires, that I have opened up to a world of rich opportunity, love, and grand joy. And with the joy, equal sorrow. I continue to swim and swim in my walk, as if above the ground below, and dog-paddling forward in an energy of purity.

I do not long to impress, convince, prove, or pretend.

Pretending was the first robe I shed.

Convincing another or longing to prove my point of view, that garment came off next.

And the third to disappear, the yearning to impress.

I no longer long for approval.

I am enough.

And I know this readily because you are enough.

The tears keep coming, the soldiers and troops from eons ago that gathered by the river preparing to march onward but never heard the bugle’s call. They come now, at my spirit’s beckoning, leading me onward, lifting me up beyond where I’d been.

I see more now. Perhaps because my true eyes are at last open.

And I trust more now.

I trust the unpredictability of the universe, the absence of knowing, the inability to plan, to expect, to will.

I have found the freedom in releasing.

I have finally understood the concept of “letting go,” in understanding nothing and no one is or ever will be mine.

I trust in the guiding light, whatever form one imagines this source or lack of source to be.

I just entirely trust.

The continued signs, continued recognitions and awakenings, remind me I am moving.

Not up or down, backwards or forward—but moving just the same.  I only need to be. No more. No less.

I am living to my desire.