Healing Arts

I hear not the words you speak, they are dulled by the voices in my mind.

I see the image blurred before me, filtered through the lens of my own blinded eyes.

My taste is bitter with the poison I drank when you told me I was no good.

This gray angry storm cloud that shadows and breathes is the past which haunts me today.

I think I saw you yesterday, was that you pointing your finger?

I think I heard you speak in hushed tones, that you intended to brush me away.

I wonder if I am imperfect, perhaps I am naive – I doubt, I steal and I lie.

I feel so small, so weak, and so meek – and shatter at the slightest rebuke.

So give me my armor, give me my sword, I will battle and I will shield.

For if I don’t protect me, who will? I say – the world buries those who stand still.

Eventually crushed by body or might for obstructing the Natural Way.

It’s a necessary violence that pushes me down, and shatters my will to go on.

I stand no equal, no worthy opponent, but a tiny mortal whose opinions were big.

It’s not my will by which the world turns, no matter how loud I scream.

For my suffering has no gravitational pull other than that of tears.

The affairs of the Universe are not mine at all, that business is not my concern.

I am here, I am whole, and I am nothing and I am all, I am That which flows through my veins.

So I bow my head and pay heed to Now, to Here, to where I stand.

I slowly open my eyes again once again and the storm disappears and fades.

I am borne of this moment, by this moment.  It is the moment that brings me to Life.

Who am I right here? Right now? For You… What do I choose to become?

And in that there is nothing if not Abundance, for possibility is infinite.