A World Waiting for Me Beyond This One. {poetry}
I do believe there is a world waiting for me beyond this one,
it sings its melody softly upon the strings
it unfolds upon the page in poetry
it creates nature’s face within the paint,
it dances itself into space,
and I am simply a receiver.
A river;
a director of forces beyond direction;
a channel for dreams seen with eyes wide open
A seamstress of symbols
stitched like shadows upon waves
endlessly surrendering themselves to the shoreline.
I know no more than what my mind can perceive
but what I can feel is limitless
like the world cast before me in my sleep,
the world I shall return to when I wake —
it is not death I seek
but Life,
to be born, here
in each moment I am asked to step forward
and bow to it
to not beg, but earn the abundance of it
by accepting myself and those who walk alongside it
and through it.
We must walk in gratitude and in presence,
for there is nothing more than it.
I do believe there is a world waiting for me,
for I can hear it echoing within the trunks of the trees,
it speaks of liberty and of trust
and I think,
there must be scripture I can give to such a voice
but there is not.
The trees speak of nothing
and I realize
this is a world lacking literature;
a place without description,
a palace of sheer nothingness
where everything is simply returning…
Maybe it is death I seek,
but the burning of life flicks and spits
its flame back to me, even whilst I am dying
to comprehend this world
of bees exhausting blooming flowers
of the same nectar
I taste on his lips
Here I can close my eyes
and the world is so still,
and the words come to me through a heartbeat,
as a gull soars overhead
another layer of me sheds itself
into the shore,
where the seconds between waves
are like breathing.
I inhale and expand
as the moon asks the seas
to release and retract,
we are both learning how to give and take
without losing body
in form, we rise and fall
and when the storm comes, we roar
or we stay
in silence.
This is a world of choice,
the fire is both enlivening
and destroying,
either way I am dancing
through it
the crimson ember of debris
is the same color coursing through my bloodstream,
and I am no longer in between
rather, I am a child perceiving, accepting,
humming, running
catching up to the rays of the sun
with a precious dream in the palm of my hands
ready to throw
it all up into the sky,
where my mind cannot reach it.
Maybe one day I will search for it,
but it is of no direction
and I am no longer a seeker.
I am a see-er
of this world right in front of me,
the one enveloping me,
the one teaching me
how to breathe without thinking,
how to sink without drowning
and how to live while dying.
***
Marly Jean (Meandering) is a Canadian creatrix born of the Earth, the Sea, the Sky and the Fire. She is an intuitive interpreter of Nature, and a friend of the spirits who wander with her through deep forests and endless rivers. She is a painter, a lover, a builder, a writer, a visionary and a warrior. Spending most of her days creating, traveling, learning, listening, observing and engaging, her life mirrors what she feels so deeply within herself. She is a deep enthusiast for the Wild Life, finding both her inspiration and her motivation within the forces of the elements, going wherever the wind may take her. If you were to go looking for her, you would be wise to try the hillside, or where the trees tower, or the sea, crashing… or her website, or on Instagram.
***
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