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violent devotion
The fierce rain pounding
against my window
fills me with ardour.
Every drop is an
act of devotion
from sky to earth.
Sometimes
love is violent.
I do. I do bruise easily. I often like bruises in strategic places on my body but on my heart, not so much. The words that both scare the fuck out of me and that I most want to hear (with the right person) are: “When can I see you again?” I feel so vulnerable…
Today when I looked in the mirror, I really loved my own reflection. (That seems worth mentioning.) Also, I saw this today from my spiritual teacher, Matt Kahn: Mantra of the day: “I no longer reflect or embody the pain, disapproval, doubt, suffering, or confusion of others as a way of offering support. Bless it…
I can’t stop smiling since and then there’s the and the way you time and space are meaningless here. it’s rather lovely there are no weapons it’s like cherry popsicles and puppy kisses it’s like a warm rain and singing around a campfire. it’s like top-shelf tequila and my toes buried in warm sand. it’s…
Yield and overcome; Bend and be straight; Empty and be full; Wear out and be new; Have little and gain; Have much and be confused. Therefore the wise embrace the one And set an example to all. Not putting on a display, They shine forth. Not justifying themselves, They are distinguished. Not boasting, They receive…
beyond the fairy tale [or what is romantic love anyway?] Prince William married a commoner recently sending hearts aflutter across the Western world. (But not mine.) I find myself wondering if I am jaded or just seasoned in my years—tempered in the fire of pain, loss and the harsh reality of a would-be princess who…