Seeking

love

“Know it well, love was his meaning. Who reveals it to you? Love. What did he reveal to you? Love. Why does he reveal it to you? For love.”

seeking salvation in a cave
on a mountain top
in contemplation of the leaves
the shying of the mind away from the reality and inevitable end of life
looking inward outward all around
searching for the immediate
the ironclad assurance
the answer hidden simply
in full view of those who can go deeper
go beyond
and behind
the gaudy windows the deceiver dresses

*artwork by cristina gomez*

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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About chimerapoet

I write. I write a lot. A. LOT. There are times I am half blind with a sentence ricocheting off the walls of my stupid, cant be shut off to save my life, brain. I am miserable until I get it down on paper. Punch it up a bit. Usually cross out half of it. And then breathe. Relax. Only to do it all again..... But I just thought that was me. How I am. Not a writer....noooo...not me. Writers are.....writing people. People Who Write. REALLY write. Write things that matter. All grown up very important things. Not.....me. I am just a scribbler of sorts. And I was/am content with that....if it's true, well then....a scribbler am I. Until the thought wormed its way in to my brain (the furtive sneaky bitch) that maybe...just maybe...that is writing. My style. My strange way. But....still writing. So here I am at the dance. Not sure I know any of the moves and the music is entirely mine. But.....only one way to find out. Would you care to join me?
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