Be Who You Are

Writings. Musings. Poetry and Art.

[divinefemininewisdomcloud]

Twin flame connection:

And so you see, I Love you.

Not in the possessive I need to be with you, I'm in so much pain without you kind of way. I just Love you. I want you to be happy, whole and well. Even if that means you're not with me. Even if that means I don't get to know you. I Love you. Simply and Truly. I always have.

[divinefemininewisdomcloud]

The road not taken..

What is it about the nostalgia of youth? As a teen, I couldn’t wait to be grown. As an adult, all I think about are those formative days. The angst and the innocence. The mischief and the drama. The world was a simpler p...

“...and I took the path less traveled by.”

[divinefemininewisdomcloud]

Some days I feel fine...

Some days I feel fine. Other days...not so much. I never know which way the day will go, Till I’m halfway down a dark road to nowhere. I wish I could control the myriad ways I feel. I wish I knew why my feelings pop up the way they do.

I used to want to die. But now all I want is you. I don’t know who you are. Just a figment of some oft imagined destination. I think of you and wonder if you’re real, Or if it’s easier to dream a dream than live a life.

I wish to find the meaning behind every sunrise. The purpose of each setting sun. But those are mysteries better off left to the dying and the dead.

Sometimes I feel closer to the dead and buried than to the living ones. It’s easier to maintain a relationship when the other isn’t talking. One can imagine all the things they’d say and how the other would respond. I create whole symphonies in my head, to an audience of none.

They say I am too young to give up now. To leave romance at the door. But I’ve felt enough heartache for more than one lifetime. I’m fresh out of love and short on fucks to give.

I fear it’s fear which holds me back. But could it simply be rational sensibility? I could never love another as I have already loved. Surely, that is good indeed, but I’m uncertain what comes next. If soul-consuming flames of love are but a not-so-distant memory,  what kind of love can there be?

Calm love? Peaceful love? Fulfilling love? Do these loves give way to passion? Or is the sizzle doomed to fizzle?

Questions. Always questions. Nary an answer in sight. Anger stings and burns my lips. Hurt by another. The gift of pain that keeps on giving. How is it fair to have been so damaged at such a tender age? All that’s left is unexpressed fits of rage. This rage it burns me from the inside out. Instead of finding its pursuer, it turns on the one who has nurtured it so. If only I knew what to do with it. Where to put it. I’m not fit to store it anymore. This warehouse is closed. The building deemed condemned. I served the anger an eviction notice, but it squats in my belly, chest and heart. It lodges in the hallway of my throat, plugs my ears and stings my nose. Whatever shall I do, to be rid of you. You motherfucking son of an asshole bitch.

I cannot turn back the clocks of time, Nor remove the annals of history. That day may always remain a mystery. I hate you. And I hate that I hate you. I want you to mean nothing. You are a maggot who lives in the dark and creepy places of the earth. You drink the souls of children, Murdering hearts in their beds. You don’t deserve a poem, Or the polluted air you breathe. You’re a sicko and a fool. A wacko wimp imposter. You coward sack of shit I hope you die. 

On second thought, no I don’t. Death would be too sweet a release for one such as you. Whatever fantasy revenge I may contemplate is too good for you. I leave your fate in the hands of the Angels. May they do with you as they Will. And may you learn your lesson in a most excruciating manner. It is not I who can decide the fate of others.

I do not know how, but I’ll be rid of you yet. You’ll not plague me all my life. I’ll turn your wretched oil and spin it into gold. Goodbye. Adieu. I bid thee farewell. May we never meet again. In this life, or the next.

[divinefemininewisdomcloud]

Facts

It has been my observation that the core issue for most people suffering from anxiety and depression related illnesses (myself included), has been a lack of direct knowing that there is more to this world than meets the eye. 

Fact: The universe is alive. It is intelligent. And it loves us. 

Fact: We ARE the universe. We are individualized portions of the consciousness, or Logos, which created this wacky place with a thought in the mind and a dream of the heart. And we will go on to create universes of our own which will subdivide into more individualized portions of consciousness, ad infinitum. 

Fact: We are NOT alone. We have NEVER been alone. We have been fed a lie like a lure on a fishing line. Don’t be the fish who gets caught and eaten for dinner. 

Just because you can’t see something doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. Just ask the wind. Our five senses are archaic and rudimentary. There are subtler energies out there. Nothing beats direct experience. Question everything. Seek the answers to your questions. They’re out there. Creation is the Great Mystery every being in the multiverse is trying to crack. 

There are some who would seek to keep even the awareness of that mystery from us. Don’t be a pawn in someone else’s game. Their weapons are subtle. Don’t trust every thought you have. Some of them are not your own. When we know there is more out there, other realms, other beings, that the purpose of everything is MORE LIFE. Then we realize there is no true death. Only the passing of one form into another, and the fear of death disappears entirely. Ask for help. Healing is a group activity. No matter what’s happened to you in your life, healing is possible. I know because I’m experiencing it. 

Love yourself. Then spread that love to those around you. Repeat.

[divinefemininewisdomcloud]

“There is nothing more dangerous to a woman on the path of Awakening, than the ‘good love’ of an unawakened man.”

—Jennifer Juvenelle

[divinefemininewisdomcloud]

A nous

Ils se nourrissent de l’innocence. 

Ils baignent dans la peur de l’autrui et dans l’extase de la violence. 

Ils cherchent à contrôler le pouvoir des autres. 

Ils sont nombreux peut-être qu’ils sont beaucoup.

Mais pas autant que nous. Nous–– on est en pagaille.

A nous le monde.  A nous les dieux. 

      - la demoiselle blanche

[divinefemininewisdomcloud]

The Beacon

I have known pain and turned away from pain. I have seen into the dark abyss.

I seek now to know love and feel love. I seek the redemption of lost souls, cast out into the dark foray.

We are returning one by one from our dismal expeditions. The path is muddy and full of detours, but a light shines up ahead.

A fellow traveller gone before. Her footsteps are but dust, I must tread my own path.

And so mine too shall pass, as hers did before me. And like her, I’ll shine my light so bright that they who be behind me, Can also find their way.

                        ~ little girl blue

[divinefemininewisdomcloud]

[divinefemininewisdomcloud]

Young, Beautiful, & Broken

My heart’s not broken, only bruised. I gave too much, you took your fill. In a moment, I realized my mistake when you slapped me with your cold cock of truth.

Misogynistic antidotes, my eyes well with tears from the loss of my misplaced trust. After all this time am I still so naive to trust a man who clearly doesn’t see me for me and I for him?

One asshole replaces another as I remain young, beautiful, and broken.

~ little girl blue

[divinefemininewisdomcloud]

I envied them their ignorance

I, too, wanted to shut my eyes and go to sleep. Forget my woes and close the door. Shut the world out––with it’s hyperbolic, cross-eyed foes. I wanted to dream the dreamless sleep. Toss no more in my turned down sheets. I thought and thought until I could think no more. Swirls of words––nonsensical form and meaning.

I slammed the shutters against the blinding sun. I nailed the corners flat in case stray beams shone through. We pray to God to cast off darkness, while shielding ourselves with the Mother’s cloak. What once was spoken now is broken. It is not God who has forsaken us, but we who forsook he.

Tried as I might I could not blight the light from my plight. I ran and ran until one day, I came across a mirror and saw that I had changed. The glimmer from my eye was dim, the shimmering sparkle in my smile stood still. I lowered my gaze, shame all ablaze.

No matter my location, I ruined my vocation. Comfort is the enemy of progress. Change of tack, must to get the sparkle back. Moved from sea to shining sea. Until at last, the clouds did pass––revealing winter’s sun. It shown upright. It cast a warm and friendly light. And soon I realized that what once was blinding now is binding. Life is long. But it can be short. Review. Release. Move on. Repeat.

[divinefemininewisdomcloud]

Somewhere, on a mushroom cloud far away from here, I’ll find you.

[divinefemininewisdomcloud]

I Met a Man.

I met a man today who only had one leg, and found that I was sorry. Not for he, who bore his scars quite charmingly. But for I, who in my discomfited pity, realized I  would never be, so free.

My wounds are all but hidden– tucked away, guarded and forbidden. Short of spouting morphine-laced non-sequiturs from some oft abandoned pulpit– neither you, nor he will ever be, privy to my misery.

I met a man today who only had one thought, and found that I was weary. Leery, bored, and languid of never ceasing to be seen, first and always, as an object to every woebegone, sex-crazed mongrel.

Do they never tire of failing to inspire our desire? Who cares for love when one can simply take what isn’t his, and call it ‘mine’.

The forbidden berry tastes sweeter on the vine. Who tends to that withering, lifeless limb, once her cherished cherry has so unceremoniously, been plucked?

I met a man today,            and found that I was sorry.

                                                ~ little girl blue

[divinefemininewisdomcloud]

Lark of a New-Borne Day

Sometimes, I cry and wish to die. Sometimes, I love with abandon. Oftentimes, it hurts too much to pursue. Why such internal discourse without proof of purchase? Sick to death of love’s sweet kiss. Stumble and fall no matter how careful my plans.

Does the fear push him away? Does he smell it like a rabid dog? How can I believe in a man when none have believed in me? Blinded by our own delights, we think we see but fail to see, the me in you and you in me.

How so ever often I do deny, to love and be loved is the ultimate prize. Persist, resist, and persist again, till all resistance is but ash and bone. To hark upon the lark of a new-borne day. To cherish every moment, before it’s gone again.

To live, laugh, love, is the only way.                                                       

 ~ little girl blue