Metaphysics of Me: A Memoir

I was born

A yesterday of yesterdays

Bare,

But skin to my back,

I find family in spectral hues of epidermis,

Find love

Where it was,

and where it was not

to be promised at first

I grow,

stirring,

Determined,

Bossy,

to say the least,

I am a strong stalked flower,

My curls

Lush chocolate petals

I am the butterfly

That from a caterpillar

changed its shape and color,

Before your eyes slowly emerging,

Wings wet

with new and dew,

I come to be through struggle,

Overcoming adversity,

My fears

Are not of darkened shadows

But of the void of unknown ifs,

Fearful possibilities

Of life unlived,

I am the philosopher

With a problem

For every solution,

I am a seeker,

a thinker,

a complex web

Of as yet thought thoughts,

Give me time

I ask,

-So ask we all,

I am building my legend,

Piece by piece,

I am a lover,

Of few,

And all,

Holding my treasured so tightly

For fear they might break,

I give and give,

Wanting so much to multiply the love,

Into endless existence,

I am a creator,

An artist,

The young life before me,

Is my greatest piece,

I nurture,

water,

feed,

teach,

tend,

inspire her

In ways I know,

And in ways anew,

She is my story,

with a story of her own,

I am a mystic,

Finding light

in new corners,

Unexpected beauty

from the universal source,

Finding truth,

In the metaphysics

Experienced as if new,

I am the ill and well

In one package,

My healing and my hurting

Are not easily untangled from each other,

But both toughen the core,

With scar tissue

My inner

And outer

Are reborn,

I am everything

In me,

A soul with many

Names

Titles

To identify me,

But my soul

Ageless,

Graceful,

As it floats through being,

The essence

In all aspects of me

What comes next

I wonder,

But dare not guess,

Suspense

Makes this life fuller,

With richness

So decadent it can be tasted,

Can be sensed

In the air,

In the textures,

In the living,

In the every

Next moment

That will,

And does,

Then still

Inspires.

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The Blooming

Travel back,
And find your story,
It is worth telling,
It was worth living,
Fuel the words with ink
And remember why
You are here,
How you came to be,
Patient flower,
How you came to bloom.

Be, For the Lost

Loss,
Of anticipated moments,
Of a hope for something new,
Grief and confusion
Fill this void
What to do,
Without the one
Who was not, was,
and then suddenly lost

Be human,
Be sentient,
Breathe,
This is your moment to mourn,
To find life again
After it’s loss,
Pick up the pieces of
A scattered you,
Learn again how
To laugh,
To live
For love,
For the one
You lost

Alright/ All Right

Pain, but not the tears
Is what makes me doubt my moves,
but something is right

Uncomfortable,
And yet not unbearable,
Yes something is right

But not everything,
The setting is not correct,
Therein lay the work

Some things are all right,
Just, this is not the best place,
This is not our scene

The time is coming,
To make our exit stage left,
Making things complete

On Rebirth

I can see my healing now,
In my words…

Before, I had grasped widely
for hold of sanity,
My mind spun,
Outlining all the abstracts
Seeing the metaphysics of everything
Until, like the universe
I exploded
In a big bang of psychosis

Then slowly
Though Not understanding the why
I began to pick up the pieces of self

Little by little
I write my way out
And back
And reflect on
What happened?
What had I become?
What was I becoming?

Was I flowering or
Decomposing
When I exploded?
Or both?
Or was this just
Another
One of many
Of my rebirths?

32 Years

This evening I turn 32;
A decade since I cried
With bronchitis
Not knowing what to do,
A decade since I swore I’d failed,
That not knowing what would come next
Is what was making me fail

This evening I turn 32,
So much has passed since I feared

My body was at the end of the line,

That my chance of treatment was only giving me
Borrowed time

This evening I turn 32,
A flip of my favorite number
A number I’m not sure why,
but I’m drawn to,
Everytime

This evening I turn 32,
And look back
at what 32 has brought me,
It’s not perfect
But it’s mine
My heart
Inside

And then there is
The heart that beats
Outside my breast,
And snores
To assure me,
Yes she takes another breath;
And a love that snores much deeper
Than our babe
On the other side
of my body

This evening
I turn
32,
And like at years 3 and 2
Insomnia wakes my dreams
To wonder on ,
And on,
And overthink
My next 2 to 3, to 32 years