Reach

Look, I want nothing more to be loved and to love. Why does that seem so difficult. Maybe I am really not loving myself properly.
While I sit here and wonder... what this all means and why you're here. It seems like another direct reflection of the inner workings of the cosmos in the sky. Venus sitting just beside Neptune in the darkness just before the sun rises. What mysteries are lying there but a love so far out of reach is it hard to distinguish if it is an illusion... or if it is real. So perhaps someday soon the sun will shine the light on this dance so that we may finally see. As much as she holds on to the path it is starting to suffocate her...
She barely leaves her apartment but just practice her yoga and dance. She feels so far away from all those that she loves.
She really just wants a warm embrace. With her lack of faith, the road crumbles and she slips and falls. Falls away. She reaches out but even then she is not sure if this fall is a blessing.

Swirling

Here they are again rippling
Expansion outwards
As the resonating flow goes through me
I Dance whether it be a painful moment or not
The moment I realize all the illusions
There exists only the same ripples
I am emitting energy waves
And here is the center.
While there exists many of the same centers
throughout infinite time and space
Contortions of reality fall and one sees
Everything is the center
While there may not be a place of no where to perceive
Is it not the same place where dreams are born?
I know there is a place
Where I can go to leave it all behind
In the end finding that the same illusions that are repeated
on and on
One will realize they have no choice
but to let it slip away into that impermanent sea
eternity

My dreams keep dreaming it
they also seep with nightmares
intermingling
al the things that were said all in order to hurt me
why
Have I hurt myself?
Have I been the monster
How did I create this
I must be quite powerful

Let's see how far we can take this
I can create a world as long as this one is destroyed
I surely will pervade
I know I cannot stop
As much as I would like to give up
I rather torture myself with my own ego
its own subjective experiences
its illusions of a deteriorating road