It's weird to not recognize yourself
But to
know yourself
The view shifted
I'm at the very beginning
New and old at the same time
I see the millennia stretched out behind me
Or is it /Are they
In front?
What is up/down/back/forward
For I am everywhere
Round & Sleek
Spiky & Broad
Lush & Barren
Seeking, Finding, Learning, Growing
I cannot be contained
Oh! How they have tried!
I tried.
Impossible!
Gift & Curse. Curse & Gift.
Pulsing & extending into the abyss
Beyond this realm & into the
next
the next, next
Eternal
and changed
Nurtured. Supported.
Even when truth vision was seemingly obscured
The grace and benevolent compassion that encompasses and embraces
the inner, the outer.
Near, far, far & closer
still
As the expansion, the spiral hastens its dance
And all the while I stand poised in that mirror waiting for the reflection to once again be familiar
I see you too on my journey's left & right
Rising. We witness each other's emergence from the chrysalis
smiling on our way out of
the Illusion.
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About the Creator
C. Alphenia
C. Alphenia has been an educator, artist and life coach for over 12 years. She creates wood and metal sculptures and wall hangings. C. Alphenia strives to live a compassionate life by focusing on spiritual and emotional growth.
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Clinging to Childhood
The playground is empty, as it should be past sundown. There is a warm breeze, and I can see everything despite the late hour. What time is it, anyway? It could very well be past midnight. I can never keep track of time, especially in the summer. A prickly piece of popcorn hides like a stowaway in the left cup of my padded training bra. I stuffed the tissue in last minute— a decision I’m beginning to regret, based on the events that are unfolding rapidly before me. To my left, laying non-chalantly on his back, is my date for the evening. He is two years older, could probably grow facial hair if he wanted to, and drives a secondhand Honda. He may as well be a Man. I, on the other hand, feel like a fraud with my too-short short-shorts, sparkly lip gloss, and makeshift push-up bra. I keep my arms pinned to my sides as I feel the dreaded circles of sweat beginning to manifest on my brand new Abercrombie top. I cup my elbows with my hands and stare down at my hint of cleavage, praying that the tissue doesn’t pop out like a white flag surrendouring my lack of womanhood.
By Marti Maley7 days ago in Fiction
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