Category Archives: heart space

Through the hall of mirrors

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Caught in a spin cycle,

Burning gold bursts out upon our arrival,

we begin again,

as time weaves these stories, embedded and endured,

we can never be quite sure,

Pulled by the tides,

an amnesia that hides,

to us it will never confide.

that this fortress was built upon lies,

shush, please just shut your eyes,

the demise of reality, we are made blind,

night time falls and we are numbed out, okay, getting by, fine,

but just remember that a place to forget and hide,

is a place where misplaced projections reside,

these processes mechanical, like mind numbing opiates and we override,

senses, what is inside.

You will soon find,

if you have the eyes to see,

coupled with a natural curiosity

that forgetting is easy,

it’s the breaking out that require a will to carve our own way,

no matter what they throw in our face,

This game we must refuse to play,

do not feed into it and become prey,

thought and emotion are worth more than gold

choice to blaze through any false promises sold,

the future looks bright,

when you are at one and can through the darkness of the night,

find even one reason to fight,

Faatima

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Thrown away the key

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On the edge of atrophy,

rampant revolution with the sea breeze,

brewing in the air,

the mist, beware.

We no longer have a care,

for the now frozen lakes far off in another galaxy,

the little people are free

weeds surround the beautiful sweet flowers that breathe,

life into the ether as between the lines we read,

grow, uproot, resist, feed,

through perpetual death and rebirth on the shores of grand rising we bleed,

transformative, awakening from the haze,

fires blaze,

as seasons change

earthy, watery an elemental stage,

passage through the malaise,

wounds cut open and the memories fade,

escape,

it’s too late and we can no longer wait,

sitting ducks and enslaved,

You may have thrown away the key,

but this you did not foresee.

Faatima

x

 

The heart centre

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Memories swiped,

An amnesia that hides,

buried in the worlds within worlds,

but as the veils grew thin these realms unfurled,

fragments and shards spinning vortexes whirl,

as forgetfulness and slumber became impossible to maintain,

reality looks at us right in the face,

there was no place to run and no place to escape,

back to centre stage,

medium, a calm place,

knowing beyond knowing these verses became congruent,

lines in my mind’s eye which is observant and fluent,

well read in these arts,

but now integrate and start,

to do the real work all we ask is if you do dare to stare

into the abyss beneath these muddied layers,

handle with compassion and a slow and steady care,

tricky at first,

as illusions tumble and bubbles burst,

you’ll master it once you come out the hurt,

practice and patience,

surrendered without waiting,

aeons of tales weaved in the webs of times past,

blunders direct us to blind spots if we last,

and bloom from seedlings to flowers,

for they left us wide open in a place where souls get devoured,

projections and stories unseen and unheard,

yet felt all the same through the onslaught of words,

to those few that know,

empathic warrior souls,

we either take it on and dwindle to their whims

or the other choice is to light up and be still

returning us back, back to what is within.

Faatima

XX

 

 

 

Wake up

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I am past the days of delusions,

excuses, backed up with fairly good reasons,

throwing force-fields at enemies,

doubts fail to cloud my mind this time around.

No more settling for less,

no more lack of self respect,

like Neptune weaves a fate,

shaped by tendencies to escape

from which one day we’ll be forced to awake.

The realm of fantasy,

an alternate reality,

holds us back,

when real life seems to lack,

but clear space inside your brain,

and let go of the chain,

of conditioned thoughts,

lies you may have bought,

Awakening to who you really are,

and following your heart

slaying the dragon,

and steering clear of the bandwagon,

breeding sheep,

who were once in deep,

a planet of amnesia, still asleep,

eyes opening from slumber as we keep,

persistently planting seeds

intuition is the key out,

and this time there is no turning around.

 

 

Fire and earth

 

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Burn it to the ground,

before the flames died down,

these illusions were the light,

like candles in the night,

casting shadows in the smoke,

something beautiful and bespoke,

emerged from the dead, we awoke,

this potential that had been simmering below the surface,

has broken free and we find one purpose,

has taken it’s place,

amongst the blaze,

of time and space,

elemental, alchemical,

atrophy, and eventually the cycle,

has endured a rebirth,

of fire and earth.

Faatima xx

 

The real world,

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In the quote ‘real world,’

in order to make things work,

these words have me bored,

floored,

rest assured,

they will be ignored.

they preach how things never really work out quite like that,

there are things to take into account, concepts to grasp,

The fork in the road, a reminder to drop the unnecessary load,

all these ideas

these sub-conscious fears,

they marry well together in stifling you from this end goal,

the reason that you struggle so much in the pursuit of becoming whole.

Embodying a vision,

no matter how small the mission,

it takes a dropping of old beliefs,

to have a sense of direction will be a relief,

but not too rigid, remember to float till you eventually reach,

that place where time no longer sleeps,

the wheel turns, it does not make a sound

it has come full circle, now,

round.

Inspiration offered up everywhere,

not so much an original idea but the fires we all share,

of momentum and enthusiasm,

is in the end the root of our unique expression,

a tool

or merely just a lesson,

a step in the dance of progression,

to apply on to our particular course,

without pause

nor a gap between thoughts

doubts to be released

and so we are free’d,

it seems through the battles fought,

we eventually saw,

how its now time to give back

as the ripple effect is a direct result of just that.

Faatima

 

The death of an illusion

As my hot cup of coffee steams in front of me…

warming these palms, I feel free,

of past illusions as painful as it may be..

To let go and know,

that I too have grown

sick and tired of old games,

no longer do they entertain,

play in the dark,

realise this work of art,

is made of many shades,

some blue, some gray, some tainted by dismay.

No certainty only intention,

unless there some kind of intervention.

Word is bond,

perception has failed me it was wrong.

Objectivity led me to find

that feelings run my life,

therefore I am not blind,

I cannot deny,

it’s not a weakness that somewhere along the line

I came to the knowing that it was only a state of mind, no longer is there a desire to rewind.

Instead I turned my cheek turned my eye

the other way,

looked away.

Nothing more left to do, nothing more left to say.

Faatima

xx