Elevator poetry

Do not try to be interesting.

Be interested and you will become interesting.
Maybe not in everyones eyes. But we don’t care much about those anyway.

No one will ever give you what you want. Things will never fully turn out the way you want them to.

Expecting things to always go your way is a strategy for suffering.

Only when you are willing to stand completely alone. Accepting whatever comes will there be Peace in the midst of pain.

I’m waiting.

For that something to happen.
I don’t know what it is, but I tell myself I will know when it happens.

But there is no such thing as Freedom.

For, who is there that is bound?

Slow. Trying.
Finding it’s way.
Feeling the texture. Being created.

In between the lines, is the meaning. The essence.
Life itself.

I’ve been trying so hard. Using my mind to wiggle into position.

There is room for improvement.
But there is no need for unblocking. Who is blocked anyway?

Leave all strategies be. There is no path to walk. No secret to unfold. No place to arrive at.
It is just a continuing process that has it’s own goal and method to get there.

Creativity is it’s own driver.

Did you hear him ask for directions?

I miss you.

Sitting in your shalwar kameez in the hammock, smoking a cigarette with a red plastic mug of red wine in your other hand, with a hint of indifference, throwing wisdom around you.

But, you will be here next time, and we will all recognize that you were always here,
As you should be.

So you can scream all your want.

But fact remains. You are already here.

Riding a bike. Travelling the city.
The smell of fresh air, green trees. The lake and rivers. Moving in pace with life itself.
Was we ever made to wait in line? Squeeze together in trains. Move the same direction at the same time. And the back to where we came from, again at the same time?

These feet were made for walking…

Time to start writing.
To tell the story I haven’t told yet.

Love is not so much a feeling as it is a surrendering.
Are you willing to loose control?