Confirmations

Some set off to find themselves;
some say wherever you go, there you are.
Some never choose paths to explore
but remain stagnant, wishing upon stars.

(But stars are evermoving,
taking those wishes with them,
beckoning the dreamer to follow
the paths constellationly charted.)

I set off with no objective,
but upon returning, the self-reflection
(thoughts actually in the clouds!)
made me realize about myself
that I am exactly who I thought I’ve already
found.

It’s the lightest I’ve ever felt
upon returning, for now, to the ground.

One Bloom

Sometimes we can light
another’s candle
from the light
of our very soul,
and sometimes
it only takes
one bloom
refusing to fold
to awaken
the world.

Words and image ©LauraDenise

Too Early to Title

Are you here?
You’ve been searching,
collecting clues;
perhaps this segment
of sea will weed or
reveal identity truths.

Just you here
and your mind.
What do you carry?
What have you
left behind?

Look about.
Family. Strangers.
One in the same.
Or entirely different?

Who has come
to search,
and what for?
Who will leave
with less,
with more?

So many shells,
filled and hollow.
So many opportunities
made and lost
among people.

Memories can be made.
Promises broken.
Second chances given.
Losses counted.

Each drop significant,
each drop matters,
though so vast is
the ocean’s water.

Water is one,
a singular thing.
We don’t count drops
until we are thirsty.

If I Expose My Soul

My place, still trying to find…

The theme seems to be
on repeat
in my poems and prayers,
on repeat
even after all of these years.

How can a soul feel
so gypsy-like?
Am I
just too connected
to some other
source of life,
to an invisible umbilical
chord still tied,
too aware that none of this
is being done right,
the meaning and purpose
of this hourglass-time?

Am I to be searching,
actively roaming,
or is it the going
that keeps me from knowing

or being found?

Is it that I must
in the stillness sit
to ~~hear~~ feel the direction
in which I should shift

inward bound?

My soul is restless
but more at peace
than ever;
perhaps I am nearing
or about to remember

my self.

Perhaps the journey
is not in evolution
but in reverting,
returning,
shedding
all of the artificial

shells.

If I expose
my soul
to you,
and you expose
your soul
to me,
I wonder
if each other’s
homes
we would find
our selves
to be.