Jamieson Wolf's Blog, page 72

The World of the Pen – A Poem

I don’t see the

world in the same

way others do. In

my world, there are

dragons flying overhead, soaring

through the clouds. In

my world, there are

flowers and plants that

talk to you as

you walk along the

path. Sometimes, they sing.

In my world, there

are fair folk. Some

are kind, helping you

along on your path,

showing you the right

way. Others would lead

you astray, into the

deadly swamps that await

those who have lost

all hope. Yet, there

are even more strange

sights to see, unicorns

and griffins, ogres and

trolls, battling it out

over something you have

said or didn’t say.

There are darker corners

that are full of

despicable people capable of

the darkest of deeds.

However, for every person

of darkness, there is

one of light so

pure and so complete

that it never fails

to shine in the

darkest corners of my

world, for good must

always triumph over

evil. I stop for a

moment on the path

that I’ve been walking

upon when my Prince

comes up behind me

and wraps his arms

around me in an

embrace. He is warm

and wonderful, full of

the kind of light

that shines so brightly.

“What are you writing?”

He asks. I answer

as truthfully as possible.

“I’m not sure yet.”

His scent envelopes me.

“I can’t wait to read it.”

I carry a smile within

me as he walks

away and I wield

my pen, mightier than

the sword, and wait

for the story that

wants to be set

free.

I Wish… – A Poem

As I was walking home,

I saw a man with

the bluest eyes. They were

a dark and vibrant blue,

the colour of a sky after

a storm has cleared.

I had a flash from

my youth, a wish to be

other than I was,

to not look as I did.

I had always wanted

blond hair and blue eyes.

For reasons unknown to me,

this was what I identified

as beautiful. As I

walked away from the

blue eyed man,

I whispered over and over:

“I wish, I wish, I wish….”

I stopped there, however.

What did I wish exactly?

Though my life was not

what I thought it would be,

I was happy.

Though I did not look

like everyone else,

I loved myself,

every part of me,

even my imperfections.

If I changed one iota

of who I was,

or what I looked like,

I would not be on

the path I was on today.

My life would be

different than it was now.

It wouldn’t be the life

that I was living

but someone else’s.

I was finally happy

inside my own skin

and content with the life

that I’ve been given.

So instead, I simply said

“I wish…”

and left it at that.

For to wish for something

is to invite the possibility

of magic

into your life.

As I walked home,

the air around me began

to sparkle and shine

and I knew that

I was already

magical.

The Wisdom of the Flowers – A Short Story

Here’s my second Pay It Forward 2015 offering. This is a short story I wrote for Heather Garrod.

I just thought of Heather and a dream someone had mentioned to me the other day came to mind. I decided to combine the two plus a twist of my own.

Enjoy!

 

The Wisdom of the Flowers

Heather believed.

It was as simple as that. She knew in her heart that there was more to the world that we could see with our eyes. She would often see things that others couldn’t, sense things that weren’t physically there. It had always been this way.

It was why she wasn’t particularly surprised to see the woman sitting in her garden.

For Heather, scents were as spiritual as anything else, even more so. There was something about the aromas of certain plants that were able to calm, to ignite or even heal. She had always grown plants and different types of flowers. They were part of the way she got in touch with her spirit.

She had gathered her gardening tools (gloves, trowel and scissors for clipping dead leaves and weeds) and stepped out her back door. She smelled the garden first, that delicious scent of wonder. The air smelled of lilacs and orange blossom and filled her with joy.

It was as she was coming around the back of the house to the garden proper that she saw the woman sitting under a large oak tree in the centre of her garden. This was unusual for two reasons: She had never planted a tree in her garden and her gates had been locked.

Heather approached the woman slowly. She was sitting in a rocking chair and she moved it slowly back and forth. It seemed to be creating a small breeze that blew even more scent towards her. She wasn’t afraid, only curious.

The woman saw her coming closer and smiled broadly. A light came from her, emanating from somewhere within. She waved at Heather. “Come closer dear. It’s all right.”

Heather knew it was, so she walked closer. As she did, the breeze that surrounded the old woman increased. To Heather, it felt as if it were welcoming her. She stood in front of the old woman, the breeze growing stronger. “Who are you?” Heather whispered.

The old woman smiled. “I am called many things. Maiden, mother, crone. The old woman, the nurturer, the princess. I’ve come to answer your questions.”

“I don’t have any.”

“Oh, sure you do. We all do! Where are we going in this life? How will we get there? Will I find love? You humans are a species that always wants to know more. That’s a great thing to have, never lose that curiosity.”

The breeze blew across her face, almost as if it were caressing her cheek. She smelled honeysuckle and iris blossoms. Heather asked the question that was burning on her tongue. “What are you?”

“Oh, to that I can give you a proper answer. I’m a dryad. I am alive only when I am near my body.” She patted the trunk of the oak tree. “I can wander for short periods, but never very far away.”

Heather let out a small breath she had not been aware that she’d been holding in . “How did your tree come to be here?”

“How did any of us come to be here? No one really knows. Science is a great way of explaining magic, don’t you think? But enough gibber jabber. You have questions. Come, have a seat.”

Heather looked down and saw a tree stump where there hadn’t been one before. Rather than sitting on the flowers that had been there before, they now grew around the stump. Heather nodded and sat down, the sun warm on her face.

Sitting this close to her, Heather noticed what she hadn’t before: the old woman’s skin was like the back of the oak tree, her hair like the leaves that grew from it. Her eyes were green like the sap that ran through the tree.

The old woman pulled out a cloth bag from the folds of her dress. “Let’s see what’s in store for you, hey?”

“I’ve had my tarot cards read a few times.”

Shaking her head, the old woman let out a chuckle. “That’s fine dear, but I don’t read the Tarot. I read the flowers instead.”

“You can’t read flowers. They have healing properties, but it’s not like they’re magical.”

“It’s because they have healing properties that makes them magical. You know this, dear. Now, reach into the bag and pull out five petals and we’ll see what’s coming your way, hmmm?”

Nodding, Heather reached into the bag and pulled out a petal. They were white and shaped almost like silver dollars. “I’ve never seen petals like this.”

“That’s because they aren’t petals yet, they have to become. Pull four more and place them in a line on the table.”

“Table? There isn’t one.”

The old woman looked down. “Oh, silly me, hold on a tic.”

She waved her hands and a branch grew out of the ground between them. A leaf began to grow from the end of the branch. It grew larger and, as the leaf settled, it lay on its side and flattened out, making a perfect table top.

Heather had never seen anything like it. She took a breath and drew out four more petals, putting the five of them on the leaf table top. Then she looked up at the old woman. “What do I do now?”

“Well, you turn them over of course. You said you had experience with Tarot cards? This works the same way.”

Heather took a breath and turned over the first petal. There was a shimmer and then colour began to grow from the middle of the petal. As it flowed to the edges, it changed shape. When it was done, there was another little shimmer and the breeze stopped flowing around them, almost as if it was afraid to disturb the petals.

The old woman smiled. “A Begonia petal. That’s a lovely start, wouldn’t you say?”

“What does it mean?”

“Why it stands for rich, hidden treasures that you’ll find on your path through happenstance. It promises something rare and beautiful. Flip the next one.”

Heather did and watched it shimmer and turn from white to a deeper, creamer white. She knew this one. “Calla Lily.”

“Quite right dear. Another beautiful one. It symbolises a well of deep knowledge and intuition. It catches your dreams and holds on to them and speaks of your beauty, both of heart and soul. Draw the next one dear.”

Heather reached for the third petal. When she flipped it over, it turned into a beautiful light purple petal. She knew what these were, too. “Crocus flower. What does this one symbolize?”

“It’s a powerful symbol. Many believe this flower brings about openness, to capturing the goodness in life and all that is part of it. It’s a powerful flower. Draw the next one.”

She reached for the fourth petal and this time, she felt the woosh of magic all the way up her arm. The petal turned a beautiful shade of pink with an outline of yellow. She immediately felt more cheerful upon seeing this and wanted nothing more than to smile.

“The hibiscus.”

“Quite right dear. You see, I knew this wouldn’t be wasted on you with all your knowledge of flowers. Sometimes when people see flowers floating past them in the air, they don’t pay attention to what they could mean. Just because flowers can’t speak doesn’t mean they don’t have a voice.”

“What is this one trying to tell me?”

“It represents joy. Pure happiness fully realized. It’s about your dream realized, every step of the way, seeing beauty in everything and celebrating the small things in life.” She motioned with her hand at the remaining petal. “Turn the last one dear.”

Heather turned it over and watched as turned purple at the tip and white at the end. She would know that smell anywhere. “Freesia.”

“That’s right dear. This is one of my favourite flowers. It is the flower of trust. You are being guided by force of the cosmos on your path and you have to trust that everything is unfolding as it is supposed to. Trust yourself, you already know where you’re going.”

The old woman stood. “Well, my dear, I must be getting back.”

“But what does all this mean? What are the flowers trying to tell me?”

She smiled and it was a warm, beautiful smile. “You’ve had Tarot card readings done before?”

“Yes.”

“Much like Tarot cards, their meaning is up for your interpretation. However, I’d say one thing is clear: we can expect great things from you.”

The old woman reached down and collected the petals. Then she pressed her hands together. When she drew them apart, all five petals hung on a silver chain like charms. “This is for you. So you will never forget the wisdom the flowers have bestowed upon you.”

Taking the chain from the old woman, Heather power emanating from her. “Will I see you again?”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not. Know that I’m watching over you regardless of whether or not you do. You are never alone, child. Know that, too.”

“I will, thank you.”

“Now, perhaps it’s time for you to open your eyes, hmmm? You don’t want to spend all day sleeping in the sunshine do you?”

Heather woke. She was sitting in a deck chair that she didn’t remember moving. It was sitting on the edge of the garden. She did notice one plant she hadn’t before: a small shoot of a tree. Heather was sure if she looked up what kind of tree it was, it would be an oak tree.

Standing to get up, Heather felt something around her neck. She put her hand up and felt what was there. A chain.

Taking it off, she saw that she held a silver chain with five charms dangling from it, each shaped like a different flower petal.

She looked down at the little tree. “Thank you.” She whispered.

Picking up her tools, she set to work weeding the garden, feeling that all was right, or would be, with the world.

The Beautiful Sound of Song – A Short Story

This is my first offering for Pay It Forward 2015. It’s a short story that I’ve written for Pam Chartrand.

Not only is she a wonderful friend, she’s an awesome human being. She also gave me the impetus I needed to go back to Inglewood Hamlet (the town featured in my book of fairy tales, When Love Blooms) once more.

So this is for Pam, with love and gratitude.

 

The Beautiful Sound of Song

Once upon a time, there was a small country by the name of Inglewood Hamlet.

There were four borders to the country, marked by the cliffs, the fields, the sands and the waters. Inside a tower that was located on the very highest point of the cliffs, there lived a Princess named Pam. One day, Pam���s life changed forever.

When she thought back on it, Pam decided that out of all the moments from the day her life had changed, she would remember the birdsong most of all. It had been a harbinger of the change she had been so desperately wanted. She had thought she was happy with her lot in life, but that was before she had seen the bird.

Pam had woken early, her handmaiden had brought her breakfast on a little silver tray and she had dressed in one of her most luscious gowns: gold brocade with details in silver. It had no petticoats so it fell to the floor. She loved how it would sweep along the ground, almost as if it were whispering to her while she walked.

She had taken a cup of strong tea made from camomile blossoms and ginger root out into the garden. Her handmaiden, a lovely girl by the name of Anna, would have her breakfast ready upon her return. It was always this way.

Every morning, Pam awoke, dressed, went for her walk with a cup of tea and she would look at the wall, wondering what was beyond it. Then she would return to her tower to break her fast and she would read for the rest of the day. It had always been this way.

Being a Princess was an easy job, but frightfully boring. She spent her days in her tower, surrounded by a wall which was almost as high, with only Anna for company. Anna was a kind soul and good company, but she longed for her Prince. That was the whole point of the Princess gig, after all.

Her job was simple: amuse herself until her Prince came along. That was all well and good, but in her experience (which was albeit very limited) most men needed to be given direction. She had lived in her wall encased tower for forty years. She was now well past the accepted age for a Princess, but she didn���t care. She still wore her small tiara, despite the fact that she should be wearing a crown and ruling by now.

The country of Inglewood Hamlet was a small country that did well, even without a ruler. They had had a King and Queen and a Prince before, but they had all disappeared. Pam was the only one left in the royal line to rule and her country didn���t need her. So not only was she imprisoned in the tower, when she got free, she would merely be a figurehead, nothing more.

It was as these thoughts ran around inside her head that she herd birdsong. She stopped, looking for it. Though she had trees and a garden inside the walls of her tower, they were too high for most birds. It had been years since she had seen any wildlife. The wall was higher than any bird was willing to fly, higher than any squirrel or chipmunk was willing to climb, so there were no animals in her walled tower garden.

That���s why even the sound of birdsong was alarming. She looked around and finally located the bird, a male blue jay. He stood on the edge of the tower wall, serenading her with song. She stood there with her eyes closed, the tea in her hand forgotten, and just listened to the beautiful sound of song.

Her eyes snapped open when the song stopped. The blue jay was still there, but something was happening to him. A light started glowing from his feathers, as if he were made of the sun itself. The glow intensified until he a ball of light, brighter than the sun itself. She shielded her eyes but kept looking. Pam had never seen anything so beautiful.

With a soft pop, the light disappeared, but in its place was a man.

He sat on the edge of the wall, clothed in leather breeches and a poet���s shirt, both blue in colour. She put he hand down and lay the teacup on the ground. Pam could only stare at him. He had a strong chin with soft layer of stubble upon it and long dark hair that hung to his shoulders. He had blue eyes that were so clear and so bright, they seemed to be looking right into her.

���Pray, what did you do with the bird, sir?���

���Oh, he���s right here. Why don���t you come up and fly with me?���

She laughed even as the sound of his voice stirred something in her. ���I have no wings. Why don���t you come down?���

���Would that I could, dear lady. I would break my legs if I jumped from here and the wall is too tall to fly down into, I would never be able to fly out again. There is a magic that prevents this, shimmering over the top of the tower.���

���Fly? You were the bird that sang so sweetly?���

���Yes.���

���Then are you a shape shifter?���

He cocked his head to the right as if thinking of how to respond. ���Does it matter?���

Pam thought about it for a moment. ���No, just sing for me again. It was so beautiful.���

���Come up here and I shall. You are the most beautiful woman I���ve ever seen.���

Blushing, Pam asked him: ���What do they call you?���

���I am Gregory. I���ve heard the maiden you live with call you Pamela.���

���Pam, please, there���s no need for ceremony here. If you���ve watched us, why are you only showing yourself now?���

���I was afraid, dear lady. There are not many who would have me as I am. I was afraid of showing myself to your maiden.���

���Ann would have loved to hear you sing. Are you sure you cannot come down here?���

���No lady, look.��� He picked up a stone that sat on the walls edge and threw it at the opening at the top of the tower. Something sparked in the sky and it was gone. Then the sky shimmered as if made of water. ���It is as I���ve said, there is a barrier.���

���So you mean to tell me that this is the reason no Prince has come to my aid?���

���Why do you need the help of a Prince? You merely have to help yourself to break free of this life and live the life you want.���

���How am I to get up there?��� Pam asked. ���It���s so high, you ask the impossible.���

���Nothing is impossible if you believe. You have to believe, Pam. Grow wings and come fly with me.���

���It���s that simple?���

���Yes. You just have to believe.���

���There must be more to it than that.���

Gregory shook his head. ���You are talking to a shape shifter, a being once thought to be mythical yet here I am talking to you. Come on Pam, believe.���

The third time he said the word, a breeze came down to run its fingers along Pam���s skin and through her hair. She shivered with wanting and closed her eyes, wishing that she could find a way to lift herself up into the air, that she could find a way to sit beside Gregory.

She wished with every fibre of her being but it was not to be. She was saddened that she would not get her happily ever after.

���Pam, open your eyes.���

Pam did so, and nearly screamed: she was floating off the ground and a curious light was emanating from her skin. ���What magic is this?���

���You���re just like me, Pam.���

���No, I can���t be.���

���You���re unique and beautiful. Grow your wings. Believe in yourself.���

Pam did the only thing she could do: she closed her eyes and did as Gregory told her. She took in a deep breath, taking in the scent of the breeze that had so enticed her. She took in another breath and it was as if her blood had become the air itself.

Her whole body had become lighter. She reached out to touch something, anything, and realized that she didn���t have fingers. Opening her eyes, she saw that she had wings. It was as if she was floating on a cloud of light, so bright was the light that emanated from her.

When she reached the top of the wall, she slid through the layer of magic that was there as if it was water. She felt it slide along her skin and then a hand grabbed hers. Gregory looked into her eyes. ���I won���t let your fall. I won���t ever let go of you.���

���Nor I. I���m yours for life, if you���ll have me.���

Gregory pulled her closer to him and Pam���s body swooned with need for him. ���That���s a good thing as blue jays mate for life.���

There was a blinding flash of light and a blue jay danced in the air in front of her. It pulled at her hair playfully and sang at her. Pam laughed and let the breeze run through her body until she glowed briefly bright and then transformed.

Pam let out a song of her own. Finally, she knew freedom. She finally knew love. Gregory let out another burst of birdsong and Pam let out her own as she followed him through the air and towards her future.

So the story goes���

Seeing Into Both Worlds – A Poem

I see her

coming towards me.

She is walking

with a cane

but solders onward,

every step with

purpose. She looks

up and sees

me and I

feel as if

she is taking

stock of what

I’m made of.

She stops in

front of me

and we regard

each other for

a moment. Then

she speaks, in

a voice that

has known the

raspy embrace of

too many cigarettes.

“Look at me.”

She says and

I do, I

am. She moves

her hand upward

and snaps her

fingers at me.

“I said, look at me.”

I’ve experienced this

before. I sigh.

“I am looking at you. I only use one eye at a time to focus on people.”

“Is that a medical condition?”

“No, I was born this way.”

She nods as

if this confirms

her thoughts.

“I thought so. You see into both worlds, then.”

I’m taken aback

by her words.

“What do you mean?”

“You use one eye at a time, right? What is the other eye looking at when this eye is focusing on me?”

“It widens my field of vision. I can look ahead of me and beside me.”

“So you travel the plains of both worlds.”

I shrug, and

try to explain.

“No, it was just a lazy eye that was never corrected.”

“Nor should it. You haven’t seen all you have yet to see. Do you see goodness or duplicity in others, just by looking at them?”

I shrugged again.

“I just go with my gut reaction. “

She waved a

hand as if

waving my words

away from her.

“You have yet to see, then, but you will. You will.”

She put a

finger to my

chest and pressed.

She looked me

in the eyes,

first the right

one and then

the left one.

“You carry light with you. Don’t give it to those that don’t deserve it.”

So saying, she

walked on past

me. I watched

her walk away

for a moment

until a group

of people passed

in front of

her. When they

had moved out

of the way,

I looked for

her, but she

was already gone.

The Light Inside of Us – A Poem

Even as a

writer, I am

often at a

loss for words.

When I look

into your beautiful

eyes and see

myself reflected from

within, I tell you

that I’m grateful

for your love

and your kindness,

though that only

comes close. When

you take my

hand and the

simple gesture makes

me feel more

whole than I

have ever been,

I tell you

that I’m honoured

by your presence

in my life,

but the words

don’t described everything

I’m feeling. When

you tell me

that you love

me, I tell you

I love you

in return, but

trying to fit

everything into those

three words seems

impossible. Now, as

we embark on

building a life

together, joining our

lives into one, I

try to express

how thrilled I

am, how happy

you make me,

how you make

me a better

man. I can

only hope that

you know this,

that you can

feel the words

I want to

say but can

find no breath

large enough to

hold them. I

know that the

emotions I can’t

find the right

words for thrum

within my body,

making it vibrate

with light. I

can only hope

that when I

take your hand,

and put it

to my heart,

you can feel

the vibrations of

words not spoken

and that you

know their meaning.

If I am

ever lost, I

know that all

you will have

to do is

follow the light

that you create

within me and

I will be

guided by the

light I create

inside of you.

Walking the Walk

Last year, I did what I thought to be impossible. I walked the 3KM walk for Multiple Sclerosis.

I had signed up and didn’t really have any idea what I was going to do. I had just stopped walking with my cane but was still shaky on my feet. I walked but didn’t know if I could walk 3KM all in one go.

My friend Julie helped me get ready. Instead of sitting around on our breaks at work, we would go out for walks. I walked to and from work and then twice a day at work. Julie had me calculate how much I walked and add it all up.

According to Google, I walked about 4 to 5KM per day. However, as I pointed out to Julie, I hadn’t done three kilometers all at once. It was split up all throughout the day.

On April 27th, 2014, I embarked on a walk that would change me. I walked with a whole team of people. We had raise $595 towards MS research and were walking for a cause. Mine and everyone else that was affected by MS.

It was the first time I had ever taken part in something like this and even up until the very end, I wasn’t sure I could do it. I had never done anything like the walk, but I had to try. I wanted to prove to myself I could do it.

And I did. We ended up finishing the 3KM walk in 59 minutes and 37 seconds. It took us just under an hour to walk 3KM. There was only one moment where I felt as if I had to stop, but I kept going. I proved to myself I could do it, I could do anything I set my mind to.

This year, my team and I are walking the 5KM walk. Hey, got to reach and continue to grow, right?

I can’t wait to take part in the MS Walk again. Won’t you walk with me? Here’s the info about the walk:

http://mssoc.convio.net/site/TR?fr_id=4250&pg=entry&s_locale=en_ca

You can sign up to be part of my team, The Wolf Pack, here:

http://mssoc.convio.net/site/TR/Walk/OntarioDivision?team_id=61623&pg=team&fr_id=4250

If you can’t walk with me, would you consider donating? Every penny earned helps to fund MS research and finding a cure. You can donate here:

http://mssoc.convio.net/site/TR/Walk/OntarioDivision?px=1945081&pg=personal&fr_id=4250&s_locale=en_CA

Even if you’re just cheering me on, thanks. It means the world to me and I can’t wait to lace up and get Walking!

Floating on a Sea of Stars – A Poem

I walked into

the room and

tried not to

shiver. The hospital

was cold, especially

so in my

gown with my

back exposed for

all to see.

The technician smiled

weakly at me.

It was late

and who knew

how many MRI’s

she still had

left to do.

She gestured to

the machine, sitting

larger than life

in the middle

of the room.

“Here are your ear plugs. And you even get a little party hat.”

She handed me

a disposable cap

that kept the

machine sterile. She

gestured again at

the MRI machine.

“I want you to lay down, putting your head here in this rest. I’m also going to prop a pillow under your legs.”

I nodded and

hefted myself up

onto the table.

I lay down

as she helped

me guide myself

into the proper

position. She attached

the camera that

would take close

pictures of my

head and neck.

This was the

moment I always

began to lose

it a little.

I felt I

was being shut

into a cage,

with no exit.

“Try not to move while the MRI is on.”

She said. I

knew I would

be able to

hear her voice

once I was

in the machine.

I nodded and

the table slid

into the long

metallic tube. My eyes

were closed and

despite whatever bravery

I possessed, my

eyes watered with

a few tears.

I opened them

and blinked a

few times to

chase the tears

away. It was

then that I

noticed the stars.

Someone had stuck

stars on the

inside of the

tube. I looked

at them and

marveled at the

sight of such

a happy thing

here. I heard

the clicks of

the machine starting

up and then

the MRI started,

shaking the table

that I lay on

as the magnetic

rings moved faster

and faster around

me. I closed

my eyes and

focused on my

breathing. After a

few breaths, I

was able to

breathe deeply. I

eased into

my breathing, letting

their rhythm compliment

the sounds of the

machine as it

thrummed around me.

After some time,

It began to

feel as if

I was sliding

out of the

magnetic tube. I

opened my eyes

and saw the

stars were still

in front of

me. I hadn’t

moved. I closed

my eyes again

and after a

moment, the sensation

of moving returned.

It was as if

an unseen wave

of water ran

beneath me, except

it wasn’t water,

but stars. I

could feel their

sparkle caress my

skin. I was

still moving, sliding

out of the

machine. I heard

a voice speak

in my ear.

“You’re doing so well. We’re almost done. Just a few more minutes.”

I opened my

eyes and saw

the sky, filled

with sparkling stars.

They joined with

the ones that

held me aloft.

I floated there,

held by a sea

of stars. It

seemed like I

could look into

them forever and

never see the

end. Below me,

the machine began

one last loud

round of thrums,

bumps and beeps

It sounded like

the music that

stars would make,

unintelligible to my

human ears. The

the voice spoke

softly once more.

“You’re almost done. You better come back now. You’re almost done.”

I closed my

eyes and relaxed,

floating downward until

I felt the press

the sliding table

against my back.

The tickling of

the stars lessened

as the machine

began to settle

itself around me.

I felt the

stars leave from

beneath my body.

They slide out

as if made

of water. Then

the machine gave

one final click.

I opened my

eyes and was

once more looking

at the yellow

stars that someone

had stuck inside

the machine. I

said a silent

note of thanks

to that technician

as those stars

had given me

a way to

float amongst the

stars that came

from forever. As

I walked out

of the room,

I looked behind

me and saw

that I left

behind a trail

of stars, sparkling

in the air.

I almost reached

out to touch

them, to run

my fingers through

them. Instead, I

made a wish

on one of

them and hoped

that it would

come true.

 

Believe the Impossible – A Poem

I never believed

in Love until

I met you.

I believed in

the idea of

love, that two

people could meet

and something would

erupt into flame

inside of them,

from their kisses

or even the

simplest touch. I

looked high and

low and found

versions of love

but it wasn’t

the real thing.

It was only

a facsimile of

what love was

supposed to be.

I resigned myself

to a lifetime

alone loving myself,

thinking this was

all that I

would have, all

that could be.

Then you came

into my life

and changed every

aspect of it.

You changed me,

filling my heart

not with hope

for something that

would never be,

but with love,

the love that

I had dreamed

of but thought

impossible to attain.

You make me

a better person

with you in

my life to

fill it with

joy, support and

with happiness I

never thought I

would ever experience.

You fill my

dreams with light

instead of darkness

and my waking

hours with thoughts

of you. Every

time I think

of you, my

heart pulsates with

a soft glow

that fills first

my chest and

then the rest

of my body.

When you kiss

me, a fire

spreads along my

lips and down

through my body,

lighting the candle

I carry for

you within me.

Thank you for

showing me what

true love really

is and that

dreams, however big,

however impossible they

may seem are

really just wishes,

waiting to be

granted.

You Are Everything Beautiful – A Poem

You are everything

that is beautiful

to me. You

are like the

sun that shines

above our heads,

the air that

rushes past our

faces, the water

that give us

life. You are

birdsong that inspires

hope, the grass

under our feet

that whispers our

dreams and wishes

as we walk

upon it. You

are the stars

themselves that we

wish upon. You

are my wish

I never thought

would come true.

You are everything,

all these things

and more. When

I think of

beauty, I think

of you and

what we have

together. When I

think of you,

I am filled

with light and

love for you.

You are the

embodiment of all

that is beautiful

in the world

and I am

so thankful to

be loved by

you in return.

You are everything

beautiful and whenever

I think of

you, I am

happy.