Here I stand
on the edge again
toes precariously dangle
over a sea
hundreds of feet below
I've given my all
walked down roads
foreign and uncharted
menacing shadows of fear
lit only by a torch of faith
It's a cruel joke
the heavens have played on me
living my life to help others
only to discover
I needed to dissolve myself
from a lifetime of patterns
extract myself from vines and webs
woven and tangled into my identity
I've given out my best
drained myself dry
the emptiness filled
with their fears, their baggage
to multiply with my own
Have I become someone other than me?
But who am I?
I wished to be the minstrel
the singer of songs
the dreamer of dreams
to uplift and touch the heart
Now I am called to slaughter and skin
Why must my hands be covered in blood
to reclaim my soul?
I fight the urge to escape
the paradox
the unresolved pain
to leave these all behind
on jagged, blood stained rocks
So here I stand
I feel my spirit pour forth
spilling over the cliff
the spirit of sea and sky
rushing up to greet me
If I let myself go
will I become the air that I breathe
and soar in the mist and gentle clouds?
Will I be caught by the ocean
safely splash in the womb of creation?
or will I be smashed and dismembered
a feast for the birds of prey
that learned how to soar?
Moments of peaceful meditation
moments containing panic in crisis
moments in the heat of passion
merge into the sameness of my existence
The vanity of intellect
arrogance of enlightenment
certainty of intent
I'm torn apart
by this split
schooled and trained into me
again and again
The mind cannot mend a bleeding heart
only hide it behind a dutiful smile
as I collapse in the bleeding of compromise
Am I the frantic fly
trapped in a glass jar
smashing into what he cannot see
but surely knows is there ?
Who am I
but a being
still emerging?
What is it I cling to?
This sense of self
fashioned according to their wishes
I am a spirit that meets each moment
in creative intercession
forever changing
feeling truth in every moment
But this voice
I trusted it so clearly
when it called me to my old ways
How do I trust its new call?
Was this the voice of my soul
or the summons of patterns
etched into my consciousness?
shackling my spirit
yearning for freedom
Here I stand
The west wind urges me on
kissing the tears of my turmoil
I cannot merely stand anymore
the ledge stones crumble beneath my feet
my heart cries for answers
my spirt aches for release
I must go
But where?
