Conjugated Love

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I’m drunk on possibilities. You know, one of those moments when you want to say I love you guys, to the ex who I truly loved, the friends who I love present tense and the people who I will love in the future. Life is so fucking conjugated. And yet so simple.

It’s an old post but the sentiments remain. I don’t post much these days as my life is generally offline and offgrid. I’m breathing in the air of constant change where creativity takes a million forms. As we breathe in and out together I wish for a deeply felt year.

Head in the Sand

HeadInTheSand

The air is like soup and my brain is a mash of desires that cannot be fulfilled. I am trapped in this room while Australia burns. And the politicians keep denying the cause.

I am suffocating on the stupidity of climate denial. I check the apps again. Extremely Unhealthy air is no longer a surprise. When it slides to Moderate I breathe a shallow sigh of relief. It’s amazing how humans acclimatise, become complacent. Sure we need to adapt, but let’s not just put our heads in the sand and hope it passes … because it’s not going to.

If we can’t change the game players who juggle corporate profits and political power, let’s work on what we can do. Talk with your friends and family and love deeply beyond what you already know. Solutions come from baring our souls and being vulnerable. You might want to plant some seeds in the soil and in the minds of those who haven’t yet thought about it.

I’m ready for action. I’m putting on my face mask and heading out into the smoke.

*If you enjoy my writing and want to read about something different I have another site here: https://wordpress.com/view/wildartwanderer.travel.blog

Mask

Waiting for The Light

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There are moments when everything is clear, crystal even. Then there is the waiting, the contemplation, the preparation for something that may erupt and cover everything with molten memories, the ashes of a life well-lived, cinders of unrequited love and the burning passion of future dreams.

Love is

Lovers

I am passing through countries, discarding them like forgotten lovers. Now when I think about love, I have many more things to say. I think love is a vulnerability, a willingness to trust someone with a precious heart. To be so child-like and joyous that dancing and singing is a natural state. A heightened awareness of the beloved. A look, a tiny movement, a sigh, a tremor, a breath, a heartbeat, these are the signs that reveal the inner state. But love passes, in the same way that that cities fade into the distance as I travel across Europe. That is what you tell me. And so, I continue my journey.

‘Take your joy and spread it across the world, he wrote.

At least begin with a smile and hug yourself, she thought.’

Vaporous perfection

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Clouds, so impermanent, advise her that reality is a mere dream. The illusion of solidity in their shape and comforting forms is exactly that, illusion, disappearing as temperature changes, wind blows or night extinguishes day. Why would a cloud be other than this? I marvel at such simplicity. I will endeavour to leave clouds to their journey, not fall in love with them in any other way than to share their pleasure of being vaporous perfection.

Budapest Blues

budapest

It’s Sunday and I’m in the most beautiful city in the world.

Cigarette butts crushed into broken tiles.

At my feet is another death, in the street,

Broken buildings and hollow dreams.

I’m in her arms like a stillborn child.

Feeling nothing, it seems,

But old.