Thursday, March 12, 2009

Weary and Dark Song

I already had my morning imagined. I was going to approach my minutes step-by-step. I wasn't going to invite my expectations to get too far ahead. I didn't want to get caught in the net of disappointment. I wasn't going to invite the hoodlum of doubt into my hour of bliss. When the walls of obligation squeeze and suffocate the breath of creativity, it is time for the sledgehammer.

I was able to get a better view of my intention by just using my voice. A request was made through my spirit to ask for an adjustment of working hours. What might seem to be a minor interruption can forcibly blast a path of self destruction and sabotage to end the course set for purpose and enlightenment. This selfish intrusion only defines the illusion of my limited equation. It is within my own power to wield the hammer and smash the shadow that bears down on my mental capacity. I'll slice through the lies that bind these tortured thoughts and hold me captive in a fixed and weary longing. My head, my shoulders and gut scream for the warm rays of healing. Hands only sought and found between the layers of vapor through the grainy mirage. I'll drag my weapon and leave a trail for you to find me.

Friday, March 06, 2009

Bite Me

Routine is an accident of preconceived self-discipline. Routine is the heart of mindless expectations. Routine is a dark and endless tunnel reaching only as far as the end of the room. Routine is our soul's prison and Eve's punishment for believing what she was told.