A lone, windswept... weeping willow
Tired of changeable toxic breeze
Conundrums staged... perplexing
Do you crave my Love, a release?
Where are you my Persephone?
Do you wait for me... are you there?
Sense day’s light dwindling to dusk
Darkling... cradled by despair
I am hope‘s bruised butterfly
Gentle grace within my touch
A rippled flux of universe
Unabated... unconditional love!
Ache for a life painted passionate
Two singing spirits that tremolo truth
Peace, pillowed-quilt... compassionate
My soul’s amber-encased... loving muse
Empty, lonely... tear-stained, tussled sheets
Twilight slithers... lick our wounds
Leaves us, cold wraiths... desolate
Yearning tender care... new moons
Oh Love... wrap me in your velvet tones
Hold me safe, in celestial words
Lie with me under this Harvest Moon
Be loved, precious, cherished... and adored
Dreams, I press like violets
Forever, my heart’s lyre... laid at your feet
Twinned light, transcends Autumn’s equinox
Won't you fill my lacuna, Love... please come unto me
Synchronised, our spirits aligned... contented!
Shine, goldening-wise, Fall’s souls’... quantum seeds
Love’s autumnal, bright... Phoenix, piled feathers
We’ll rise again, upon zephyr’s peaceful ease
Together... we will find what has been missing
Equilibrium’s love.... life’s illusive... puzzle piece!
© 2022 - Violet Moon Poetry - Debbie Razey
Both poem and art made on photoleap
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Wednesday 19 October 2022
Lacuna
My Friend
I hope you know I love you... always will!
Your heart to me… like sunshine’s happy pill
I know those words are often platitudes
But we both know our hearts... they are attuned
Yes, we don't know what life will throw our way
Sometimes dark nights... they will eclipse our days
But you, my friend, can lean on and rely
Your pain and hurt... to soothe, I’ll always try
Oceans apart... but I’ll stand by your side
I'll tend your wounds and listen whilst you cry
For you to me… are dearer than the stars
I'll keep you safe... embrace your every scar
In me, you have a home... you do belong
Our giggles, soul-deep bond... will keep from harm
© 2022 - Violet Moon Poetry - Debbie Razey
Sunday 2 October 2022
Autumnal Bygone Days
Autumn whispers secrets of those who have gone before
Amber, Auburn pirouetting leaves... scarlet, saffron
Falling tree debris... bright fire rain, russet, sanguine tones
Crispy crunchy, staccato steps... symphony’s cyclone
Squirrels hoard buried treasure troves… forest tree pantries
Kaleidoscope... leafed-fairy wings, waltz upon the breeze
Bare, skeletal trees disrobed... in moonlit shadows moan
Schoolyard conkers, hibernating hedgehogs... snuggly homes
Decorations, weeping willow tears… Ole Hallows’ Eve
Witches, skeletons, vampires, ghosts... children cloaked in glee
Families enjoy traditions… ancient festivals
Priceless moments shared... magic, mystery, fun-filled awe
Foggy, frosty Fall’s stark morns… home-baked blackberry pies
Pumpkin spice, treacle toffee… trick-or-treat candy smiles
Rosy cheeks, woollen hats and scarves… searching for lost gloves
Cold hands warmed, by dear loved one’s breath… cosy blanket hugs
Firework spectacular skies... Catherine Wheel lit-eyes.
Neighbours encircled, stacked bonfires... enkindled, hailed cries
Guy Fawkes’ eerie effigy... consumed by leaping flames
Glowing hearts, red toffee apples... sparklers signing names
Days drew in... darker dawns, velvet nights; hearth glowed ablaze!
Starry bedtime stories... loving pooch, Pearl’s faithful ways
Making pom-poms, pies, knitting... singing Oklahoma
Autumnal yesterday’s shades of you... Dearest Grandma
© Debbie Razey 2022 - Violet Moon Poetry
Art made with AI on photoleap
Thursday 29 September 2022
Star-Sailor Twin
I'm cast adrift on enkindled fireship
and not even Zeus could quell these flames
My heart for storm’s waves feels ill-equipped
Crave together... we’ll love’s voyage take
Dream of a time, you may one day be mine
My soul feels yours through the dense sea-fog
I can't see stars, but oh... how they shine
Just like I sense with you.. that I belong
If our two laden lone ships collided
in uncharted, bottomless waters
Beneath these tempestuous, solemn skies
Would we be victorious... or slaughtered?
How can we know... if we don't even try?
Would Poseidon gift us his protection?
Twinned flame, seafarers ... granted safe passage?
Or feel lightning’s wrath... unyielding tempers?
Would vengeance sink us... our minds be damaged?
Breed resentment... sever bonds, connections?
Would hearts’ sails catch fire... and incinerate?
Or would souls burn... happily enlightened?
Illumined... our true love’s harmonious fate
Life filled with love, joy peace and laughter
Or drown in dire disaster... tsunami’s wake
No, we're not doomed... we bide time and meander
Two ghost ships off course... but we still have hope!
As fears’ obstacles, our love can conquer
Not on sea’s barren bed, die anchored… and alone
Instead, we’ll deep dive... claim Atlantis as our home
One day soon… throw love’s caution to the wind
Navigate... our one true destiny
For without you, forever daylight... would rescind
Spirit sacrificed... to crepuscular, cruel seas
My mutinous heart, could never give you up
For without you... would forget how to beat
I’d rather be shipwrecked, together… my soul’s kin
Than sail apart, without your heart... star-sailor twin
© Debbie Razey 2022 - Violet Moon Poetry
Art made on #photoleapAI
Saturday 16 July 2022
Vincent
In dear Vincent’s eyes, golden sunflowers bloomed
Exchanged Dutch smog for French vistas anew
His artist life… was relatively short
Yet legacy’s list… most certainly not
Transient hands… spoke in brushstrokes’ genius
Captured life’s magic… more than appearance
Seventy-five paintings… in eighty days
Painted frantically… manic phases
Began… completed in one clear gesture
His paint, so thick... was almost a sculpture
Overpainted AND thought... in-depth., texture
Vincent cut off his ear… when abandoned
By artist housemate… whom his brother paid
Or… so we’re told and the legend now states
Vincent hoped this act would make Gauguin stay
Much like his death… questionable charade
Ironically employed… to keep safe
From his antisocial, peculiar ways
In yellow house, away from asylum
His fragile mind… an unaligned diam
He’d drink too much... become hysterical
His bright paintings, mood… antithetical
Painted his face which frightened his neighbours
Auvers-sur-Oise… turned sadly disastrous
What Vincent saw, others could not perceive
His vibrant and vivid… reality
He painted in stark, otherworldly timbres
Could Vincent see ultraviolet… linger?
Meant only for eyes… of pollinators
Intense, lucent luminous… depictions
A monochrome world had never yet seen
Such lurid and garish… natural scenes
His paintings en rapture... all our senses
Some find his work to their eyes, offensive
Vincent used his art as a therapy
Deemed God as Nature… and it, as beauty
Often sectioned… came voluntarily
Mind plagued by being… he found menacing
In his lifetime, never sold a painting
Though belief in self... was unwavering
Was both religious and painting zealot
Prophetic… as now his art’s worth millions
A man whose artist’s flare... preceded time
In starry night he, captured the divine
He tried life’s darkness... to ameliorate
Enabled through his art… heaven to taste
Night sky’s cosmic movement, immortalised
Glimpsed all eternity... through his deft eyes
Perfection from man, considered insane
A majestic mind, their doubts could not tame
Let’s bear this in mind… when too quick to judge
Divergent-minds gift… what ‘normal’ cannot
© Debbie Razey 2022 - Violet Moon Poetry
Friday 15 July 2022
A Cloth-bound Classic
To be a cloth-bound classic... oh what I wouldn’t give!
To be lusted after, coveted; when dutifully collected… I’d beguile
To make someone happy, feel special… when given as a gift
To adorn stately bookshelves… in far-flung countries around the globe
To be stroked by wanton fingers; my tactile, foil-stamped…intricate, alluring design
To be thumbed through, perused and devoured diligently
My name in golden script, glistening… smiling proudly from the spine
To be handed down from one generation to another
I, a secret porthole to lives not yet met or lived
To be made up of passionate love affairs and glimpses of whole new worlds
A tome steeped in culture and ancient myth... full of folklore, legends and mystical lives
A story delectably described in exquisite, poetic language
A book so profound and emotive… it could make you cry!
A tale that illuminates all of life’s humble... simple blessings
Channelled through deft senses… word-smithery, sensual and divine
Depicting Nature’s stark wonders and magnificence
Reveries and mysteries of the human heart… so complex and sublime
Whispers of all the silent secrets, the oddities of the mind
Life’s fragility and brutality, human tragedy… loss, pain and demise
But most of all, I crave to be held… cradled, cherished and adored
Snuggled down in bed with… or read, at the foot of a great tree
For readers to lose themselves within me... at home or to be enjoyed beside the sea
To be considered a revelation... a thing of ethereal beauty
Without having to have a complexion, a reflection… or a skin-clad body
To carve out forever a small place of nostalgia… in people’s hearts and minds
To bring comfort and escapism to all the lonely… scared and shackled souls
To set the sad and suffering… their imaginations alive, wild and free
To wile away the reader’s precious time... to be a waking diaphanous daydream
© Debbie Razey 2022 - Violet Moon Poetry.
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Moon Night, Sun Maiden
Oh, where, oh where, Love art thee now?
Beyond dark mirrored realm of night?
Thou promised me thy love was true
Across, storm’s plains... to me wouldst ride
Gallant knight ‘pon trusty steed
Wilt thou bear lightning’s wrath ... for me?
Yet Father Time hath other plans
He cares not... that I beseech him
Fair son of moon and lunar climes
With lupine charm and stardust eyes
Oh how I wish thy gaze to hold
My hand in thine neath cloudless skies
Thy raven locks, so wild and free
My fingers wish, to run through thee
To welcome thee, to rest thy head
‘pon butterfly, winged beat... silk breast
For where I breathe... thy solace make
Never again... need feel alone!
Alas my Love, tis but a dream
Betwixt our hearts... stands Time’s cruel screen
I try, hear voice in echoes wake
I shan’t thee Love... thy heart forsake
Break through gilt sky-glass... sever wrists
Rose-petalled drops... I’ll gift thee, Love
My peace for thine... I’ll sacrifice
For thee my love I’d gladly die
Time... stares at me “I'll lift thy curse
He's twelve short hours ‘till day unfurls
Moonflowers smile... you’ll cease to be!”
“Dear child of sun and golden hair
If thou pledge life... pray he make haste?”
“I shall... I’ll sign my name in blood!”
Brave moon knight, please keep safe, my Love
I'll guide thee home... to me through dreams
Ethereal sunburst… ‘pon night’s breeze
© 2022 - Violet Moon Poetry - Debbie Razey
Friday 29 April 2022
Art Lab
~ A.R.T.L.A.B ~
Through an oversized, biohazard signed door led
Into meshed-fenced pen, beneath an ambient sea of red
Made of reinforced steel; towering at least eight feet high
On a full moon cast night... under a May, spring sky
Feeling euphoric buzz rise… of a chemical daze
Waiting eagerly at door of a private party rave
A.R.T.L.A.B. it was called... now a legendary rave
Down an alien-headed, welded staircase was led
Into dark bowels of a warehouse; techno lair daze
There, a wall of music hit me… fractured by strobes red
Blackwashed floor, walls and windows; UV-painted sky
Where both Hippies and Punks danced away the night... high
Floor’s thundering vibration... all minds and spirits high
Hard Trance beat, penetrates… intoxicates the rave
Thick white smoke bellows... creating atmospheric daze
Floating hands; angled movements sequenced… elation led
Eyes ablaze and mouths contorted; cheeks blushed... blood red
All arms raised in air… serpentine in lightwave’s sky
Soaring now on music… with Lucy in the sky
Levitating in moment... on dopamine’s high
Strangers all-embracing… encircling spotlight red
Everyone loving each other… art, culture, rave!
Mere rats, to the music’s Pied Piper… DJ led
Riding the undulation... into oblivion’s sky
Across the dance floor... wide-eyed constellation sky
Frenzied stomping feet… dance in a hyped,
marching daze
Quickening to crescendo... from the decks we’re led
Bursting into applause and waving glow sticks high
Bouncing floors, pulsating walls, of a 90s rave
Abstract, gurning, ‘Dali’ Faces… eyes all blood-shot red!
Suddenly from basements darkness… lazor pointers red
Unwelcome daylight pierces dance floor… rude dawn’s sky
Police in full riot regalia… storm the rave
Lovers huddled in corners… now in panicked daze
All scrambling to seem sober… to dispel their high
Ravers, still dancing, but in handcuffs… outside led!
Hedonistic youth’s daze… faded, now sunset red…
Today, frequent calmer sky… as age quelled the high
Now, in only dreams rave, halcyon days… once led
© 2022 - Violet Moon Poetry #sestina
Thursday 7 April 2022
Sound
Why do we try colour the air with words?
Pigments of touch through proprioception learn
Phonetic symphonies of those unheard
Tones, pitch and shades of their vernacular
Has eighth sense now of empathy been lost?
Has aurigraphy lexicon replaced
our innate primal instinct... at what cost?
Regressed through knowledge, whilst sixth sense
defaced
Like the waves. all sound ripples, crests and falls
In rivulets, cascades, pools... deep maelstroms
An ancient pasigraphy sequenced call
distracts from our bodies' vibrations hum
Our harped halcyon ambience unfolds
Auras visceral perceptions penumbra
Geometries cymatic patterns mould
Truth… essence always lies in the umbra
Sand grains reveal sound waves as mandalas
Chladni's plate shows frequency visualised
Trope….. pareidolia reflects stellar
through sequence, cadence.. all materialise
Establish sacred space and third eye's lens
Through mindfulness mantras. filters hone
To feel wonder's symbiosis ascend
Witness... become…. creation's rhythmic tone
© Debbie Razey 2022 - Violet Moon Poetry
Small Patch Of Sky
Small Patch Of Sky
One by one, we all fall down like dominoes to the serenade of clowns
To routine’s domestic well... become vestiges of ourselves
Rigid whispers hold the vague essence of lonely patterns
Psychotic laughing, pierces dusk’s void... I am a woman, I’m no toy
I am not to put upon a shelf or to hide in your closet’s stealth
I‘m not cream in your coffee... not just a stagnant destiny
I am me, I am free... I stand rooted like foreboding tree
I am not here to crisis manage all your indiscretions
Your absent-mindedness... apathetic, chaotic damage
Not made to adorn your arm... to make you feel better about yourself.
I’m not, even in humour, your metaphoric ball and chain
I am not your comforter… to soothe your tempestuous rage
Nor am I twilight’s shadow cloak, to hide your self-destruction mode
I am me, was all along... it isn’t me who has forgotten
You do not define me... you don’t get to choose what’s on my mind
I’m not yours to shout at, scorn and warn… I will not heed your commands
Different plane, undiscovered land... maps, compass will only get you lost
Tonight’s murky lonely, blots my skin... love now a mere bitter frost
On debris’s garden bonfire... flames struggle to eviscerate
I am me and now I see... through kaleidoscope’s hijacked screen
I now see your true light, not the one projected… which gave you might
All along… love I thought I saw; came from me; it was not yours
Sacrifices were all mine... you made me feel unworthy of your time
Yet wanted me waiting... pristine and pretty at the finish line
Whilst staccato cooking… washing pegged in military painted smiles
I am me, no longer fooled... marionette’s dance is so cruel
Now my turn on centre stage… you can wait, if you wish, in wings
Although spotlight feels scary… I’ll not be denied destiny
I’ve been silent for far too long... now I’ll sing my truth... soul’s song
My form‘s not sleek, battle grazed, but like Lazarus… I return
Yes I’m broken… I am weak, but in me find the words you seek
I am me, I am poet… I’m mother’s, wife’s, daughter’s sonnet
You see, from me words flow… like an avalanche of powder snow
I have been told I am Sage... yet I know naught, have felt deranged
For solace, to me others come… but I’m more... I’m skin and bone.
I am alive and I have lived... now ‘me’ I finally own
Estranged… severed; from cut-out paper-chain men ... I cut free myself
I am me, I am alone... helping others has been my call
Is it too much, to want to feel more than mediocracy?
Loved, truly adored, for not what can give… but for who I am
Taboo! Please… what am I to you? Am I precious … your soul mate?
Do you savour still my taste.. does true love, I speak of, exist?
Like moon and night, to love... to be loved, peacefully coexist?
I am me, I am sad... for the time squandered, the love we had
I feel such pain… not just mine, but from our world now gone insane
I want to be happy… to feel safe, begin again anew!
I don't want to be rescued; I want to be discovered… found
To live simply, to breathe joy, poetry, music, nature… life
To bask in moonlight… transcend like water to be moved and fly
I am me, I am light; I’m sensually passionate... I have fight
Yearn to have mind stretched, feel thankful… I need love… and to feel free
Wish to be seen as home, mystery and sensuality
As I rake the lawn-littered leaves… tidy up my scattered mind
Pray confidante moon... manifests my confessions within her tides
Gather… bid starless sky adieu… wistfully blow kiss to moon
My oasis from the chaos... half an hour gone too soon
So I return inside… to what I’ve become, what life demands
Reluctantly reduced... amber glow of ethereal hue
Love my children, as moon doth stars... but do they know who I am?
Want again to illuminate love... rain possibilities
Flow free… like waves imbrue inspiration... creativity
I am a walking sky patchwork; I am mother, woman... me
Am I, on star cycle alone… or will in other… find a home?
More than this slate-tinged, beige… small patch of sky
Where in clandestinity… I marvel at the moon maiden’s divinity
Wanting to be more than I am… a better person; someone whole
Freed from anxiety, manmade constructs… be my own Calliope
Night now shrouds my lego house; where beneath… I still… dream alone
© Debbie Razey 2022 - Violet Moon Poetry
Thursday 17 March 2022
Irish Eve - Saint Patrick’s Day
Guinness in hand, we start to swig
Saturday 12 March 2022
Nature’s Collective Consciousness
On the precipice of knowing and feeling,
being and seeing
What are we?
Truly what are we?
Beyond this veil of physicality,
and our brains practicality,
we try to understand...
to trace circumference lines,
to stay in our own frame,
where the caption automatically... allocates;
pre-dated labels and designs for our minds
You see we are not the unique architecture
of the skin that we wear
We’re not even the architect!
Can you detect your watermark... or has it been drained of hope?
We’ve been taught how to cope in a construct
made by man
Little wonder we don’t understand
something so alien to our soul
Even the stars... could not implode,
through a phone
Our thoughts pigeonholed into
spied, surmised… advertisements
Bastardised, into a capitalist consignment
Anaesthetised by digital appeasement
Be good and take... your treatment
Lobotomised, our now screen eyes
A.I.’s dilating the gift of human thought
When did Google and Siri become King and Queen?
When did we learn to stop questioning,
researching... fact-checking?
Who taught us not to?
Who is Siri, when she’s at home... does she atone?
She’s not in your phone;
she is now... squatting in your mind
Google the authoritative... finite,
to most of the generation coming through;
who never knew
that research was... exactly that
Not a quick fling between a search engine and spellings inaccurately typed
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a Luddite
For free worldwide knowledge and education... I would fight
The reality though... with an esoteric law,
filtered internet firewall,
from a government who grew claws
of iron bars and sharpened its shackled teeth;
whilst waiting patiently in the wings;
is that it lies, to its… own people
It rewrites truths... narrative skewed
and, through control leaves strength depleted
Crime of stealth, of our knowledge… wealth;
to which most are unaware… didn’t even occur
and when told.... disbelieved with delusion
This war against freedoms,
through tactical divisions,
has been plugged into our homes and ears
Has been raging now for at least... the last twenty years
The Kerplunk of humanity
and now all the marbled, digital currencies
now fall through the holes;
spaces between the overlapping intersections of crude division
From the colour-blind mastermind
of child’s manipulated play,
cardboard box - plastic cylindrical tube,
humanity haphazardly plays
When in truth the only two colours used
are the hues of those who have... and those who have not
No longer craftsmanship...only dictatorship
No strategy required... well at least not from us
as we’ve now regressed from classical chess
No longer wars of knight, bishop or queen
No grace or chivalry
Plotting deception and tactics... all tools we have sold
Out in the cold, a stasis of thoughts, sucking screens
This war is horrific, a chainsaw to bloodied daisies
This is an atrocity like so many other atrocities,
which have now occurred
and yet we sit in the stalls, burning books to keep warm;
working out risk vs dividends... of human beings;
child murders displayed on balance sheets
We are chemically drip-fed, anaesthetic,
through our food and TV;
made addicts to dampen their mood
Our water now a heady chemical brew
Chemtrails clandestine scratched lines;
hidden out in the open flight paths of powder blue
Are we...
now beyond where we think we should be,
only feeling the truth intrinsically?
I think so many times... we become confused
with what we think we should be,
who we’re told we should be
and with who... we actually are
I wonder do children still explore,
go that extra mile, to see behind... their perceptions’ doors
into their own shades of themselves... their labyrinth,
to see the patterns
In actuality do they understand Newton’s Law?
Acknowledge... the way in which we all flow,
from source of virgin fluidity?
Can most of us still see that we are all
on a continuous looping, living, breeding
dystopian night-terror dream;
a prophesied Orwellian wilderness?
There is no goal; the clue was in ‘our’ J(our)ney
...all along In history’s stuck vinyl song;
to appreciate the gifts upon the way,
the ones of space… within vast space;
where we can experience clarity
in the in-betweens
To paraphrase Plato
“We know nothing and never will”...
but Safari knows
and Memes will tell us they do too
and if not, with one click, Wikipedia will do its trick
and tell us all we need to know
or indeed what they want us... to know
But don’t get confused
as now upcoming movie titles
are more highly prioritised in search engine’s order
than the actual definition of words
A search engine, in reverse, rages for the machine;
not to quench our fatigued knowledged thirst
However indifferent we are to ourselves,
I still wonder how many times we see
our doppelgänger heart’s soul mate;
another who resonates with ourselves
A vibration and ignition
far more powerful than sex
A deep aching... a need to transition
A rite of passage... preordained,
cosmically. aligned
Bodies and minds redefined... entwined
into Tetris and a Rubix cubed side
A need for like minds
A deep-seated yearn to belong
Sure we fight and resist
We try to desist,
but, then we become tethered;
blocked up, stifled and shocked
as we repeatedly bang our heads against
a fake ceiling of oppression’s power
In Nature’s organic way of life,
dreams have no shelf life and
people’s thoughts have no sell-by-dates
We still feel the pull of the moon and tides;
yet we just walk by
and become lonelier, when others are still lonely too
in their factory Lego house dungeon,
when we could be standing side-by-side
Amplified!
In a dichotomy of duality
Coincidence and serendipity
Lay lines... energy’s pathways
Hindsight and premonition
are two sides of the same coin
Relativity should never be ignored;
the bent clocks of Salvador DalÃ,
Da Vinci code... let's free fall
One plus one human always makes two or indeed can make more,
to build foundations with astral views,
filling our pains, holes and souls;
feeling the warmth of the sun’s love
Seeing the synchronicity;
our Escher minds entwined, now evolved
The new birthed chaos; an attack on conditioned banality;
the disorder within the deception of perception,
riding together through the spiralled conscious planes,
unrestrained... shedding
ill-conceived filters on the way;
matter and dimensions dismantling,
travelling, vibrating on wavelengths of light dappled sound
Not having to be
or to be seen
any other way;
not afraid
of being perceived as insane
Healing Is growing;
breaking apart... is to multiply, to defy gravity;
coexist birth and die all at once
The cracks in our brokeness
is where we find our pure truths,
where the light of love shines through,
it does not judge or subdue
It illuminates the best;
every aspect... of its whole
Shadows are where folded darkling skies lie;
stars, talismans of the world gone by
Where we can run from.... or embrace our authenticity
Where we can complicate
or choose simplicity’s anti-venom
Here is where humanity can take on
responsibility... ownership of itself
There is no beauty, no beast
There is only ever love
We are one puzzle piece
Mosaic catastrophe
within a sudoku box
in an inverted version of now
Through kaleidoscopic telepathy,
refugees, sketch artist greeters...
the frequency of empathy must remain high
This is why we experience anxiety,
as we’re not supposed to be
imprisoned behind walls and roofs
or 9-to-5 jobs or skin colour hues
Wars stacked up on wars;
they’ve created a matrix of binary
Yet we’re fluid
We have no gradients or edges to our souls
We are quantumly entangled
We are collectively... consciousness learning
We are God and nature discerning itself
Would you try to remove yourself from an atom,
from the Fibonacci pattern;
the pattern coded into our DNA,
into the precisely angled crest of a wave,
A shell’s groove, engraved...
liquid draining’s direction down the drain
From golden ratio are we trying to escape?
Is it even wildly known... sacred geometry?
This is why our eyes reflect the Galaxies; they are the same.. we are them
and they... are us
We are connectivity
and in fluidity lies... all that is love.
Society thrusts...
manifestations and authorisations upon us
and of course, we do this to ourselves
We disassemble our minds to understand
Yet all the knowledge is
and always was in the palms of our hands
It’s within us
It is us!
It’s within one grain, from inside a spinning hourglass of time
We are one projection amongst a forest of possibilities
and yet the trick is to hear a tree when it falls
To heed that call;
To help one another to mend;
To understand and to be... understood
© Debbie Razey 2022 - Violet Moon Poetry