A Star is Born

Sometimes
The Sun and Moon
collide
so that
a star
can be
born
~MG~

Stars are made when particles are compressed, pushed together, causing chemical reactions and increasing temperatures as kinetic energy escalates. It can be a violent process where the energy pushes against each other with so much force that they are magnetically pulled together. Gravity keeps the pressure on, staying grounded generates more and more heat. The young star gets hotter, brighter, and reaches an intensity where eventually they fuse together, releasing massive amounts of energy. (Information here)

Voila, a star is born.

The sun and the moon collided — our physical selves, polar opposites on the surface — so that a star could be born.

That star is the love that exploded out of us pushing against each other after being brought together. That star, is soul.

It was always about soul, darling.

Because soul.

M.G.

(Inspirational music, click here)

Work of Art

I have an eye for words
and an ear for music
I see colours of the rainbow
but not shadows on the streets
An artist, I am not,
but a creator, that I am
Yet you,
my dear,
are the only
work of art
I appreciate.

MG

Vision

Sometimes it’s not about easing the way
It’s about readying it
~MG~

Vision
is not just about dreams or aspirations
Vision
is discernment and preparations
Vision
is not limited to eyesight
Vision
is seeing with the heart, soul, and mind
Vision
is not seeing flaws in everyone else
Vision
is seeing through one’s damaged self
Vision
is not focused on surface beauty
Vision
is breaking down the walls for clarity
Vision
is not excused supposition
Vision
is learning to destroy inhibitions
Vision
is not a fantasy nor memory
Vision
is embracing you in my reality.

 

MG

Write Until…

Write until all that remains is love; Love always remains.

Write until the clouds shift, until the sun comes out to play. Write until there is no more anger, no more pain, no more fear, no more anxiety, no more excuses, no more boundaries. Write, and write, and write, until all that remains…is Love.

It’s explosive. Love is beautiful.

It’s all the good, the bad, the scary, the sad, wrapped up and bundled into a giant confusing package.

But amidst all the confusion and turmoil, there is that steadfast, security that sometimes feels like a literal rock. A rock that, no matter how hard it is pushed, the one pushing only ricochets because it is so much stronger than any human.

That rock, is Love.

Love itself is strong,Β  much stronger than humans are sometimes capable. Humans fall short of Love itself — if Love were to stand alone, it could be much like the Himalayas with ambivalent directions pointing left, right, centre, when all you had to do was keep going up; or deep as the Grand Canyon with a bunch of trampolines in case one does “accidentally fall in Love”.

But the journey to Love is sometimes treacherous; ask any adventurer or explorer. Getting stuck in potholes, sinking in quicksand; frost bite, rope burn, to name a few. It’s the journey that is the adventure. Love is free of cost, but not free of journey. It is not a state in which one can teleport; it is a “destination” that one reaches.

To a writer, writing is that journey. It is that path one writes, scribbling lines paving the way to the heart of a writer. It is the concoction of words concatenating the thoughts, the feels, the warm embraces. It is the bridges we cross and walk around in circles trying to find our ways around the place, trying to write out the steps to the destination.

Love heals.

To write, is to love.
To love, is to heal.
To write, is to heal to love.

Write until all that remains is love.

All. That. Remains.

Is love.

MG