Eruption

I stop kissing you
all over
with the arrival
of those colors,

that fleeting burst
of wonder
to remind us of our
benevolent Creator.

The sky erupts
in pastels and light;
the windows get tinted,
so I fly outside.

By the hand
and heart,
still connected, 
you follow suit,
smiling topless

in your jeans.
The light reflects
off my evergreen
irises.

You say it’s hard
to tell which is brighter
when my eyes are affixed
on the horizon,

but even you
succumb to it:
the moments of glory,
the magnificence, 

and just like that,
the day descends,
and we resume
our sweet indulgence:

lips dancing
beneath the stars
that wink between
themselves 
about the lovers

they brought together
by aligning 
when He finally gave the nod
in the timing… 

Poem and unedited sunset ©LauraDenise

Cobwebs Between Petals

Ninety-three million miles away,
yet upon the cobwebs of a flower,
Sol’s ray reaches, haloes, frames. 

How powerful
that gentle, golden beam is
when it finds and reminds us our
insignificance

is more important and personal
than we think it to be,
for the Creator made sure
the cold and darkness 
would always have
returning light and heat.

We are turned away each evening,
in a rotation beyond our control,
perhaps to make possible
the continuous rebirthing
of new-day gratitude and hope,

to make possible these moments
that universally lift up our gazes,
to freeze-frame and coat in gold
these nuggets of humble
beauty appreciation, 

like cobwebs on a flower
that still me with revelation:
in the tapestry and labyrinth of life,
we are woven and connected
by hidden common thread,
and love could always,
then and now, 
win. 

Poem and images ©LauraDenise

In Between the Rains

In between the rains,
I collect the molecules of my soul,
air-dropped from the heavens,
clues gifted from angels.

I peer into the crystal
liquid balls of the beyond,
not the future but the now,
glimpses of the parallel worlds.

Each minuscule evanescent orb
the only looking glass for me;
the universe within,
my naked eye squints to see.

This water of life too
composes my inner being,
my lifespan
in the grand scheme of things
also just as fleeting.

Poem and images ©LauraDenise

Floral SeaStar

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The white turns sheer,
seems to dissolve,
revealing the seastar within;
it glows in my palm,

recognizing the lifelines
as the one for the message,
spirit to spirit,

a mutual connection,

a wish upon a star
long ago returned
with the reassurance
that those whispers
were clearly heard,

another sign
that I am on the right path
and getting closer
to where you are.

In the center of the star
appears the glowing
ember of my heart.

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Poem and images ©LauraDenise

Fleeing to the Sea

Is it the colors
or clouds
or water
that draws me here?
I think it is losing
all I think I know
in exchange for the
Great Unknown
eliminating my fears.

When it all builds up,
I flee to the sea
to speak to
Almighty Majesty
and offer it up,
the waves like His
reach,

and whatever I wish
to rid from me
gets lifted,
gets washed
out to sea.

And in return,
His spirit fills me,
gifting with seeds
of peace
planted in the places
science cannot
reach.

All images taken by me last night.

©LauraDenise

I Will Never Tire

I will never tire of

morning birdsong,

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the daily rising of the sun,

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the ways the rays 

beam between trees,

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the clouds that form

in such artistry,

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the freedom flaunted in wildflowers,

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all the colors of twilight hours,

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the breezes that rouse my desires,

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the stars that kindle my dreams afire,

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for as long as I am alive,

I will never tire

of these natural delights,

 

never tire

even when the seasons fade away,

for a spirit saturated in the natural

never decays. 

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Poem and images ©LauraDenise

 

Mountain and Sea

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Few analogies have I found or invented that are better at representing the division of past and future than the classic mountain ridge.

Even from that perspective, though, perception of the future and bigger picture is limited. The immediate past comes into painfully-clear focus, but once we begin to descend into the future, that ridge blocks our view, and often, I suppose, that’s a good thing, for forward-looking is needed to safely traverse new territory and mindfulness is essential in fully appreciating the new surroundings. With more and more distance from that past comes the fading of memories. We must choose wisely which ones we hold fast to. The best seem the wisest to devote ourselves to preserving.

I suppose the same concept can be found at sea.

What safety there has always been in a shore, feet planted, whether bare in the soft, warm sand or focused on the rocks beneath the sole, land is steady, predictable terrain. The ocean may be a turbulent past we escaped from, near-drowning in bad choices and unfavorable circumstances, salt-water upon our faces. Losing sight of the shore is only half the scare, for who knows what lies beneath at those dark depths. Perhaps our past brought no waves of pain. Perhaps we are just trying to remember the best things drifting too far away from our memories. We desperately search for messages in bottles to touch, always out of reach.

But what if the sea is our future?

And we are missing out clinging to the shore, afraid of the adventure, the unknown. After all, 99.9% of the living space on Earth is out there. We are but one of a trillion species on this rock alone. From dust to dust, at peak development, we are still but a speck. We have already explored this less-than-one-percent. We are by nature, it seems, called to the sea from the shores. There is something out there. We feel it. Something more. Perhaps the dirt is indeed our past. Our gravity to this moment.

Perhaps, we should never take for granted nor forget. We are masterpieces of a loving creator. Upon an infinite canvas.

Prose and image ©LauraDenise

05/04/19

 

Listening to Stars

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Silence befalls,

stills me,

in the darkness,

gazing up at the

cosmic lanterns,

natural heat

too far to feel

upon my face

yet somehow reaches

my core

and wraps my soul

with comfort,

mixes with an

aching subtle sorrow

from a knowing

that we have missed the mark,

the callings.

Cryptic messages

lost in translation

try to reach

a distracted civilization;

these constellations

try desperately

to show the way,

illuminate maps

to the answers,

for we are all lost,

stranded together,

on a galactic island

surrounded by space,

like each human form

lightyears away from the

one next to him,

brothers

never, once, one day?

The presence of these stars

discreetly remind us of greater

purposes and higher

powers; so profoundly

their magnificence

sparkles, twinkles

as luminous glitter,

fairy dust,

sparking remembrance

of childlike wonder

and magic

and imagination

and possibilities

before society

drifted wayward,

buried such nonsense,

told us to grow up,

conform,

drove clans

from their land,

wiped out whole peoples,

to make room for a proclaimed

collective national dream

under the facade of

free.

These stars,

here before us,

know our true histories

but don’t laugh

or scorn,

for light

only emits hope,

so they continue

to offer their guidance,

lead us north, truly,

no reason or bias

or ulterior motive

to mislead us.

I keep my eyes open

in this darkness

and focus

on Polaris;

it is divine

and leads me

to focus on

my greater purpose,

search for

understanding

as best as a mortal can,

unworthy but loyal,

on this distant

rock

in a man-named

galaxy

called

Milky Way.