you. me. we.

|/| seek truth, and understanding will follow |\| email:[email protected] |/| Grace Marlow |\|

[fallofgrace]

Show and Tell

welcome down to the uptown clown show for two. You and you. Bright colours glowing in the know, of the bulbous red nose. Magic. Squeaking tunes off key and amusing still. Tent popped up and open for business, calls us all. Now and again. Ripe laughter Chortling With aches from the witnessed bit That is life. All along, to ride on tiny bikes. Following the one in front of you. To nowhere in particular. Come one. Come all. In delicious pleasure. Resigned to the cyclical game Of ridiculousness White washed With broken flowers and floppy shoes Moving slap happily Down the runway to the end. When the show’s said and done. And the mask whipped clean off A kind of melancholy stares back Retrospect is a funny thing. Don’t worry There will be another show tomorrow. Same place. Same time. Same show, yet always new. ©gracemarlow2017

[fallofgrace]

words and feels and ink

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gush

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and the shadows, they kill.

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thoughts of you are really thoughts of me

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sailing with broken bows on the plains of distraction, where circling currents carrying waves of uncertainty lead and fog clings to the underbelly of the splintered planks. steering with questionable logic shows futile, yet abandoning post seems equally unfit. only truth is sought and so correcting course fuels the unloading of what once was deemed vital, an unburdening of empty weight. letting loose the canvas to flow as the wind does. now barren the creeks echo with minute movement. silence deafening the weak, inspiring the empty. the sails breathe freely, gliding, the broken bows mend themselves, straightening beyond the cycling feud. clouds part, mist recedes, and the crisp awe of the vast doming sky, shines above and forth.

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see me run. see me run fervently through the stacks on the top floor of the library, cutting corners and maneuvering around shelves so gracefully light, as if I were floating like some ethereal being moving yet breaking the laws of physics and gravity by somehow gliding . why am I running? Am I running toward or away? is it mindlessly or is it with intent yet no destination in sight. Running indicates, typically, a hurry to or away from something. Yet what if it was just simply out of play. Every step, though quickly paced, has a discovery, a reverence for life, for breath. a simple gratitude for body, a capable body, with limber joints and effortless activation of muscles and ligaments, a union creating harmonious movement. An orchestrated concerto through space and time by the use of limbs and presence. what if all life was this: the sense of presence, the sense of movement, of understanding and discovering simultaneously. The knowing you know nothing and everything all at once. This is what it must feel like to be a child again. how glorious, how playful, how full of joy and wonder.

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you see a field neglected and keep on. I see a field untouched and open, thriving, alive, whole ecosystems blooming every moment. with fireflies dancing in the tall grass illuminating the grand old oak and the hum and buzz of universes twirling along without need of help. the smells of fresh dew snuggling in for the night and ballads of the cicadas. you see the field as an opportunity, but first you must clear out and tame the wild. how strange it is that we cannot just live among, along side, in rhythm with the lush and living field. I can sit and stare for hours as the butterflies prance from one flower to the next collecting and nourishing as it goes defying gravity with grace and beauty. we see these flowers as weeds to be removed. it is already balanced and needs not change. perfect and harmonious.

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I want to exist in the world, yet not of it. a witness to observe.

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Before I said goodbye

Before the sunshines through my window pane

Setting my smooth milky skin aflame

Rousing from my dreamless reign

With long tousled chestnut mane

Enlighten all my frame.

Before the midnight moon shines

And stars twinkle in time

Melodically drawing the lovers sight line

Singing songs of their pine.

Before the midday yawn

Lackadaisically spread on the freshly cut lawn

dandelions dance across noses of fawns

And wonders trace and thoughts dawn

In remembrance of magically formed bonds

Before the day has left

I squeezed every ounce and wept

The flow so pure, yet somehow bereft

Of the company you once took, now theft.

Somber is the truth of letting go

Grip slipping and freedom shows

Healing sinks into the belly, softly and low.

Comfort wraps round with warmth, ever so slow

And moments find peace and then you know

and faintly you once again begin to glow.

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you can tell yourself you love yourself all day every day… but if your actions do not meet your words then you are only lying to yourself and your crafty ego wins.

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a thought can be such a dangerous thing.

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You must love in such a way that the person you love feels free.

thich nhat hanh

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©Grace Marlow 2016

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I want to pry my being open so you might glimpse into me and i would no longer have to try and articulate the why, the love, the pain, the confusion. you could see from my point of being and know. no more misunderstanding. you would see my truth and i yours and we’d realize they are different and that is okay. we are okay. you are okay. i am okay.

[fallofgrace]

bah bah black sheep

walking towards the light

in a crowded throng of sheep

with books in keep

and a pen to write

the story of a song

for those lost children

roaming without sight.

ignite and stand strong

against the shallow wake

of the world’s hard bite

and know there’s no wrong

but seek truth in the deep

peeling your eyes open might

save you. after all, its all trite. 

©Grace Marlow 2016