Death, Earthly voids & Spiritual quest, Mental Health

At the peak, prana down

The golden threads sunken under my rib cage
A make believe for me to feel less alone
But the truth is a rock face,
And I am climbing it alone
As I feel its colossal presence in my heart,
My yearning feels very small
At the summit,
My fiery phoenix never born
Only a thousand crystal shards
From my solar plexus fall into the icy abyss

Art: Jean Georges

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Earthly voids & Spiritual quest, Mental Health

Derailed…Is there time to heal?

82 lives, she told me.
I was told to go to therapy.
I sought a mystic instead.
Centuries of soul shape shifting,
I want to get off of this roller coaster,
With the rails rackety wack ruckus.
The thrills are gone.
A mother to too many,
now I’m empty as a paper shell.
When I finish unwinding my body,
I forget about myself and
heal for them
heal for them
Not for me
For them
For them
Survival now, I rather take to the streets.
I have many atoms of animal instincts.
How many veils and unveils before I disappear?
All thoses homes splattered on the ground, scraping at my souls.
Karin is right,
we are hungry before we are born.
Human gossamer threads of thoughts,
access forgotten to the obtainable unknown.
Well, I can no longer wait.

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