Searching sails In the night I branch out towards This tiny light It seems so small It might implode And maybe if I reach its node The knowledge of The world itself Will bless us with A timeless breath A sigh so strange We can’t foresee This breath is real This breath is me.
Whose stories are you telling? And why? Self-inquiry is so much more important now than I ever could have imagined. I take it so dead-seriously these days that I catch myself off guard. I used to hear the term ‘journaling’ and scoff a little bit. Mostly because I didn’t have the time to do it …
Uncertain and quiet, I still just don’t know. Lately I feel like I have no authority to be espousing my opinion on the internet, to post blogs, or even to write privately because I feel contaminated. A deep-seated feeling of perpetuating something that’s not genuine. Of creating something that’s not bore of myself but merely …
Enshrined Entombed Inside the womb I sputter and break the spell It’s hard to say It’s hard to stray But I’ll try my damnedest to dwell Outside my thoughts Inside the swell Of Being’s greater good To practice To be To strictly not need To stratify all that I could I seek to wonder, I …
What is the difference between Good and Evil? Are they just labels that we assign each concept, or are they concepts that transcend our mere understanding? And how can I know the difference between the two in this utterly confusing present? This feels like a silly question to ask since there seem to be so …
Seeing stones and sills go by I see these things and start to cry So many notes are gone and missed I reach to feel them, shores to kiss I greet You and I rise up tall I want to search the Garden’s sprawl To wander freely, touch what’s true To love as greatly as …
Words are always following me. They hang above, trailing me wherever I go. Constantly composing, re-forming, re-stating. Once I have a moment of peace or silence, they flood me like the deluge…. An onslaught of compositions, essays, poetry, and random statements. I am used to this constant internal narrative. It’s been there for me all …
Seeing seething, seeping wounds Bandaged more than their cocoons. Breathtaking, worldly, in delight Something broken, fangs in spite. Carrying burdens with their back Cracking barrels, stumbling track. Ambitions high amidst the air Spinning yarns, caressing care. Eyes want truth in light and thought Hands wrought iron, sow and sought. Be with the mystery, comforting space …
I feel like I’ve been in an incubation period. Insular and isolated. Not by any specific day to day circumstance, but by my own inner need. Some form of metamorphosis. This is, I realize, a very grand term to apply to my own personal growth, and rather presumptuous. But what else emerges after a period …
Starting this blog was putting myself out there in a big way, and while part of me was exhilarated, the other half was screaming to pump the brakes. But I made the decision, ignored the introverted and fearful part of my brain and jumped into the pool, arms open, into the deep. I have no …
Amie Zor 