There is you.

Image description: A painted stick figure dances among ribbons of colored light.

In a cacophony of shrill silence and barking thoughts
There is you.
Oh powerful, oh dutiful, oh mystical yOU,
Whose internal commentaries and prayers
Don’t escape the gray matter.
Stained glass shining on you in an empty church
Almost intentional

Where are the mountains you moved?
Why does the rain not fall
After my dance and chants and prayers?

Between the “it was meant to be”
The weeping and screaming that comes with destiny,
There is you.
And nothing more.

When people look at crystals they see energy
And when I look at crystals
I just think of the
First two words of google’s description,
The spirit I sent to possess it.

I’d like to think at times,
When looking at the sherbert sunset or
Feeling the refreshing caress of the wind
Debajo de las mismas estrellas
That maybe the remnants of those
Who shaped my existence are gently tugging
At the part of me that will one day enter limbo
And join them.
The sinking feeling, the heart thumping too fast, the shiver,
Is the recycled star essence tying their intuition into mine.
They are real, and that’s a fact.
I am but a culmination of generations,
And nothing will ever make that unreal.

Whatever meaning I assign to it,
Whatever being I conjure is real.
Even if they are masks setting the stage in my head,
There is me.
And my memories are real,
Whether or not they exist in the physical realm.

And when the darkness dissolves me into it,
And all my cares are sacrificed to the black hole
There is me.
With my impulses and free spirit hippie bullshit, I at least know
It was Me.

Peace is making mistakes and possessing the confidence to see they are the consequences of my own actions.
Life is my own manifestation
My dream,
My creation.

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