You, the Cosmos

You are who you are right here and right now. You are already your own potential. And your potential already exists. It is already present swirling in your flesh, your blood, your bones, your spirit, your stars. It just doesn’t appear that way now. The cosmos is already who you are, but it has not come into awareness yet. You are still squinting your eyes, barely opening them due to the salt that stings. For you are swimming in the primal sea of awareness but you haven’t been able to distinguish it in your mind’s dark lies.  You long to hear the voice of gods or angels to tell you how to be something better. You are imagining that you see land and that you can reach it if you play your cards right. You want to be saved from your situation, for you are lonely and do not know what you are supposed to be without someone telling you the way. You think the way is always away from here. But it is precisely here that is the way: where you exactly are.  No need to run, no need to hide or fight. Just open your eye, the one that feels and sees all. Ignore the stinging salt and soon it will fall away. Get to know your currents and the tides that rise and fall. The sun that bathes you in the day and dives into the water by night; the moon that cradles you in the dark and sleeps when morning gets her start. Get to know your dolphins and your whales, the fish of your ocean. The birds of the air fly above, but the water is where they hunger to be. All your universe gathers here round and in the water for the great feast that is your life, both above it, and below it with you in the center learning, evolving, forever expanding, ever being.

Sea of Awareness

Our awareness is as the sea. It ebbs and it flows. One day you are up, the next you are underwater nearly drowning. There are many creatures of the sea, some that look like you, and some that seem to want to consume you. There are warm currents and cold currents and they intermingle beneath the sun that scatters on the surface. The sea captures the rain from the clouds, returning them to where they began. The sea feeds and the sea destroys. All begins and ends in the sea. All are born and die here.

And there is a deep darkness in the depths of the sea, a place to where we shudder to travel, for it has not greeted our eyes.  We pretend it is not there, that hidden part of the sea, and remain on the top ever carried by the wind and the surface of the water. Always the clingers of the surface, are we. Always diminishing the importance at what below us might be.

But during the reign of the moon when, as the sun sleeps, she lights the way, that which from the bottom will surface to the top, These creatures will surface and you will experience beings that you never knew existed, some frightening, some kind and angelic, some beautiful, other terrible.  All the same, you will witness these if you stay open and vigilant beneath the light of the moon, and when you do, you will experience nothing short of wonder and glory, for all that was previously invisible to you, all that seemed impossible, was always ever here beneath you waiting for your discovery, for you to begin your life anew.

Your Magic Behind the Veil

There is magic behind the veil we call reality, but one must go through not only the veil, but the gatekeepers of the veil in order to find it. You will have to walk through the walls of your own limitations, the friends and lovers you thought were real but were simply phantasms to counteract fear and self-loathing. You will have to dismantle them all piece by piece, peeling them away as if you were peeling the outer flesh of the onion. You will find it a wonder that all the aspirations and dreams that you thought were so dear to you, were but only reactions to fear and a world that wants you to dissolve within it, with your soul as a sacrifice. You may have to walk away from parents, from spouses, from people who helped you to project a world that they inherited from ancestral pain and misery. To pierce that veil, all you will need to take is your courage and your love to find that there is magic at the end of this journey, and that that magic will always be you and yours alone.

Necrologicos

Writing is a form of necromancy,
digging up what you thought was dead
what you believed was never even alive,
what you believed could never even exist,
only to discover that not only does it breathe,
but that it was the one breathing for you all along

About (Love)

It has taken a while for me to publish an “About” page. But today was the day for it to be written.

We can live our lives in the same identity for many many years, or we can try this way or that way as the wind blows. It doesn’t matter if you try on one costume or may costumes. You are still just the one trying on costumes.

But who are you anyway?

The world teaches that you are nothing without the costume.

But I am here to tell you are everything without it.

That is because what you are is simply Love.

So here is my about page. This will never change. https://2ofswans.com/about-love/

Wings of the Moth

Each thought is pulled down by gravity to the ground,
for no matter how high our pilot mind attempts to fly
it will find its matter unsuitable for the purest sky.

Wise words are shadow memories whether written or said
and rivers sweep away the speeches carved upon their bed,
forgotten fragments of a life lived alone inside the head

Heroes, gods, and goddesses reflections of a distant time
wanted to be eternal, but just survive as scholarly signs
victory without living heart, achievement that time forgot.

And so we became desperate for technology to us acquire
to speak into wires and sacrifice for fame our true desire:
for wings of the moth chase the most violent of the fires.

The Life I Didn’t Know

…A simple thing it is to write about what we want others to see about us. Not so simple it is to write what we have hidden from ourselves either deliberately or intentionally. It is all the same. What is hidden is that which we don’t want ourselves or others to know, but what is hidden has no less an impact on our lives. I have never known the heat or nature of the surface of the sun, but that does not mean that the surface of the sun is without power in my life. My life, to be exact, had always seemed to be a pebble bouncing across the surface of a lake, ripples racing outward as the light of the sun danced in between the valleys of the tiny crested waves. Magically, the pebble would avoid the fate of falling to the bottom of the deep waters, and by some uncanny will it would persist this lateral and repetitive movement. Pointless and uninteresting did it all seem especially after so many years, and yet I have now found that if I had looked perhaps a bit closer upon it, I would have seen two invisible hands alternating the responsibility of keeping the pebble above the water: one called Fear, the other called Pride, both called Hope…