A thousand lanterns

It is the last glimmer Of hot, salty Champagne-filled Days of summer. It is orange and gold And covered In an intricate mesh Of nostalgia And hope And "I-want-to-but-I-feel-lazy" And yet-unthought possibilities. Now comes the light breeze Of autumn, Messenger of an end That is just the beginning. A light blanket And a hot drink And rain against the window Of a cozy room With a comfy couch, A snoozy dog And the world in a book And my memories, my memories... And my lost hopes Falling like yellow leaves Feeding the ground For a new tomorrow.

Lazy Sunday mornings Two coffees instead of one There is a splash of sunshine On my living room floor I doze rewatching my favourite show An open book, face down on the couch My dog stretching in a dream Of bones and rabbits and puddles of melted snow The flowers I chose In my favourite vase by the door The painting I cannot stop looking at Always on the wall I stroll down the cobbled streets of old Madrid Breathing freedom and life and choice I am haunted by the power of art In places I claim as my own A book A third cup of coffee Before I go home One last look at the magic of the Madrid sky at dusk A glass of wine The flowers by the door The dreams of my dog An explosion of colour in the warm bed I bought The brushstrokes of a life Painted yesterday and tomorrow And here And now.

  You came into your power The day you understood That it was all already there. Everything you'd worked for, All you'd ever wanted, Every wish had been granted. And the gaps and cracks Were not there for you to fix But for life to flow through Wisely, Calmly, And at her own sweet pace. Let her work.

If I only had one wish For you My beloved It would be Freedom. Freedom from other people's opinions Freedom from making the same mistake twice Freedom from settling From believing you are ordinary Just another person Roaming this Earth As if you're not one of a kind As if you're not a fucking miracle Of energy turned into stardust turned into Flesh and breath and heart. I wish you freedom My love From dwelling in the small In the invisible In the make-believe problems Of day-to-day life. I hope you can free yourself From the burden Of waiting for a "special day" To wear that dress. I hope you can let go of the imaginary sanctity Of objects And memories And places And people. The sanctity that stops you From experiencing them Raw and whole and complete Without shame and without guilt. Finally My love I wish freedom for all your desires. Revel in your pleasure. Jump into it. Swim in it. Let it take over you Until you are nothing but energy Turned into stardust Turne

I refuse to live in fear, To let her stop me Run me over Take over my soul. She can be strong And relentless And unmovable. So I will acknowledge her. I will not attempt To ignore her. I will not give her power Or breathe more life into her Than she deserves. She is a regular guest (one that protects and assists in her own ways) But I shall not welcome her At my table. I will not make space for her In my bed. But simply With a nod of my head I will let her be And shall live instead.

It is different, here. There is no immediacy  In the sound of the waves. There are no faults, here. No lack of this or that No missing piece To make life whole. Time is not running out, here. There is no sand in the hourglass. Here, sand simply exists Like the flight of the seagulls Like children playing Like the best version of me. The sky is pink clouds And the air is salt And the sounds are laughter And sea breeze And clinking glasses And the gentle dreams Of easy summer afternoons. There is nothing to achieve, here. The puzzle is not incomplete. For once For now Everything is here And everything is perfect And there is nothing to do But be.

How would you exist If you needed nothing? How would you live If you did not feel That something was missing, That there was something Yet to be achieved? If you were not constantly  Thinking about That weight you think You need to drop. If you were not Wondering about That great love That may never come. If you were not Over-feeding Your expectations For that job That car Those holidays That perfect house. How would you eat, love, make love, dance, sing, laugh? How would you speak, embrace, kiss? How would you live if you were not waiting? [Image: "Expectation", Gustav Klimt]