Through the hall of mirrors

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

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

 

Wake up

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.

 

 

The hall of mirrors

In the hall of mirrors,

you’ll find them playing rock, paper, scissors..

till each reflection is revealed,

true colours that were concealed,

splashed against glass by the sunshine

a trick of the light

they came tumbling down,

when the image had been found,

to be like nothing more than the sound,

of an instrument in a band,

playing a melody to direct the stories painted by words written by hand,

not the story in and of itself,

which bridged the gap between heaven and hell.

an artist’s way to ring a bell,

alerting the populous without the desire to sell,

Like metaphors they tell it well,

Faatima

 

Slipping by

The majority of the time it’s the case of a means to an end,

Yet seconds slip through our fingers not unlike quicksand,

it seems in this paradoxical trend,

that abounds as we turn every bend,

in this maze with a conflict of interests,

at the core, making timing irrelevant,

the moment is always present,

so make time to cultivate these skills,

time being a construct we decide how to fill

or else someone else will,

and that is the only promise,

in a place where they are meaningless and un profound,

where words create circles for us to go round and round,

without taking the steps,

needed to progress.

Faatima

 

 

Fuel to the fire

Free to roam the lands all around,

all this energy that led to a burn out,

we build a house after every avenue has been found,

settle down, stillness, silence ,not a sound,

that is when the chatter of the mind rings loud,

discovered enough, we’re now inspired,

to create something new, crystallise this desire,

so that we evolve to something higher,

these strange feelings are the mystery key, offering fuel to this fire,

especially the discomfort we so often require,

the driving force leading us out of a state so dire,

to go back and learn from where the story transpired,

realise it was a liar,

release to rise to a level we admire,

alchemy that has no place in mere reason,

trusting the elements and all of the seasons,

of a life that is blossoming like the seeds that we plant,

upon once barren and dehydrated land,

a forest blooms forth inhabiting worlds within unfathomable, unimaginable,

so much more than meets the eye,

for this shift to occur old paradigms must first die,

we create our own gravity when we live from the heart space

a deep knowing that something better is taking place,

upwards is the only way,

so it’s best not to play safe,

a risk is sometimes the perfect cure,

a shattering of the myths we once lived for,

holding back this potential from springing forth,

onwards and upwards, our compass is always facing north.

Faatima

 

 

The real world,

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