what the story does to me

Time passes by me
quickly, effortlessly, joyfully.
I barely comprehend where it’s gone
when I look up at the clock
to register the difference in numbers.

That’s what the story does to me.
I enter a new, beautiful world,
a world I created.
I could stay there for hours.

I come alive there. I feel my heart glow.
And when I step away,
I’m counting down the minutes
until I can return.

rough days

Everyone has rough days
days they wish no one would ever see
and maybe
it works out that you don’t see those days
for them
but they see those days
for you.

You cannot see a person
for brief moments of time
and believe you know everything about them.

presence, truth, and love

Turn off the clocks,
divert time away from these
external constructs of time
dictating arbitrary guidelines
for when things should be done.

The time of day matters not
if you do what you love,
if you tune into the body
and let it tell you
when things should happen.

To live in the moment
no matter the time of day
offers value
immeasurable by numbers.

Measure in presence,
truth, and love.

the moving sun

The shade will only rest here
for so long
before the moving sun
will outrun the stationary house
to come over the rooftop
and find me,
take away my solace,
roast me.

The shade retreats further
under the sun’s ominous power,
shrinking.
Here I will stay
as long as possible,
until it’s gone.

Here I will stay
until it’s time to move on.