Tuesday, March 29, 2011

My Soul

So many thoughts
ideas
inspirations
concepts
little sparks
lighting their way
into the world
through me
at the minute
but not a moment
of motivation
to take them
to nurture them
to feed and water them
into their next phase
of existence
and so they are
forgotten
with their only legacy
being little scraps of paper
that hold the little sparks of ideas
which will soon be recycled
though never completed.

My muse
is not amused.

How long
will she linger
where she is appreciated
but not honoured?

How long
will she bless me
with the thoughts and inspirations
that I let wane
in each and every cycle?

When there is no deadline
there is no pressure
that I seem to strive for.

It seems that my hyatius
is at an end
and
once again
I have failed
to appreciate
and utilise
what has been afforded me
and now it is a waste.

A messed up few days
making the abnormally normal
events of my life
more complex and complicated
I will grant
but staying nevertheless
in the pattern that I have created.

A word today
on reprogramming.

The method
questionable to my soul
but the concept
yes, the concept
one that makes much sense
and one
that fits with many of the pieces
that have been floating around
my micro-cosmos
and which have now
found a matching
puzzle piece
with which
to be tried against
for a good fit.

With some tweaking
I'm inclined to think
this concept
could be adjusted
to create a reprogramming
that completely aligns
with the inherent values
I hold as true
in my soul.

1 comment:

Rob-bear said...

G'day, miss.

Somehow, I get the feeling that you're trying to push the river. Rivers do not need to be pushed. Rivers flow of their own accord. Pushing them does not help. Better to sit on the bank, relax, and observe.

Now, consider this, about sparks:
They are
forgotten
with their only legacy
being little scraps of paper
that hold the little sparks of ideas
which will soon be recycled
though never completed.


Only if you choose.

Those sparks need their own seasons. Trying to compel sparks is about as fruitful as trying to push a river.

There 'tis, lass. The muse is biding her time, hopefully. She will wait, if you but give her the slightest attention. An eager and patient teacher, she is. And you the willing pupil.

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