Tell It To My Heart

“For in spite of language, in spite of intelligence and intuition and sympathy, one can never really communicate anything to anybody.” ~ Aldous Huxley

I have always resisted

labels.  Even calling the way

I feel into life intuition

is an instant limitation.

All the inherent potential’s

available now.  This constant

evolution allows the wordplay

I so love.  Truth speaking

fades as soon as it’s uttered.

The new runs through an open hand

yet we dare to try to grasp,

and name the nameless.

No, I am not clinging

to a single stand I have taken

and yes, each moment I will declare

another, experiencing this rich

unfolding of beauty, horror,

true love and deep anger.

Why do we tingle with life,

jump into insights, premature

leaps toward the next deep pool?

How do we absorb this quiescent

question amid all the mind’s

mumbo jumbo?  I don’t understand

a single thing, though I catch

glimpses of the cohesive flow

staggering, mouth agape

these words of praise escaping.

Inspired by The Daily Word Prompt: premature


Every day my friends and I
like playful dogs on the beach
chase the tossed tidbit.
Some catch it in midair
and return it jouncing.
Others of us leap into the rough waves
and emerge shaking
our whole bodies. Some dig deep
into the earth, sniffing out
treasures. We all view
each returning prize, or
as many as our hearts can hold.
I try to watch from a viewing stand
where I distribute likes and follows,
a comment when my head galvanizes
or my heart is splintered by starshine.
None of us have led a gentle life.
Poets, artists, writers, we have risen
from the flames, unbearably disfigured
yet like magicians we transform
our pain into wonder, white doves
pulled from hats impossibly deep.
Sweeping our capes and bowing grandly
to those who say the kindest words,
I see you.
Inspired by The Daily Word Prompt: wonder