Rearportrait

this road is unwritten
unrefined
and unfinished
open to the possibilities discovered
on a haphazard layering
of barely stable bricks
that twist and twirl
in any available direction
along this path
led by fearless footfalls
and guided by inner light
providing a platform to search for
the ever elusive enlightenment
found
on the paving path of boundless wonder
uncovered just ahead

found in a decaying wood. a fragile flowering fern. with outstanding foliage. whose rare redness isolates her from the forest. a perennial. secluded in arboreous shelter. overshadowed by the crowded canopy. engulfed. but continues colorful emissions. a persistent breed. that in spite of her bristly circumstance. she remains. tucked away. finding respite in empty hollows. and anticipating the next creative bloom.

only the courageous dare. to rebelliously defy the expectations of others. dodge shift and twist reality to their own. reshape what is and what can be. while daring to dream of the impossible. whimsical. manifesters who creatively play with the notion what’s next. and spin in dawning light. for in sunny side beams. on unexpectedly good days. their visions are born.

know the arc is repetitive. in this pendulum of life. with highs and lows. swinging to and fro. and all the points in between. when gravity pulls back down. dips. threatens to stall. one can find momentum in the downdrafts. swing. forward into those uplifts. those euphoric elevations. until thrust is achieved. and lift off into the stratosphere. to fly free.

that moment when the arc of completion drops. a brief rush of relief. quickly followed by the messy emotional cocktail found at the end of a laborious rainbow. finish. with a lackluster pot of gold. dulled by the stress of reaching here. bittersweet. glinting flecks of accomplishment reflect efforts made. while the heavier nuggets nag with the endless question. what now.

the manic crests and crashes of life. produce fluctuating moods. but when warmer updrafts prevail. latch on. ride that bundle of balloons. their colorful flurry of fun uplifting you to lighter elevations. to moments outside the madness. and when the gravitational pull of reality feels too strong. know. one can always find simple spheres to elevate. and help you feel free.

there’s this thing called hope. we all get it on occasion. comes out of a kind gesture, word, or view. sinks its unrealistic teeth into one’s subconscious. and leaves its rosy residue behind. embedding. waiting until reality resumes to rekindle that optimistic flame. fire. that burns ahead. alight with potential. promising fortunate futures. for those willing to mix hope with action.

first light of a new year washes ashore. paints my world in blues and golds. dawning. it warms the air, the earth, the developing days. cascades its promising power over this solitary start. where a release from before. and a welcome to the now. collide under cotton puffed skies. present. in the 2017 dawn. i vow to embrace every day to come.