Welcome to your sacred verse.
This poem is called Transformation.
An urge to create carries the weight of the past.
When output meant value,
Striving,
Pressure,
Deadlines,
Vast.
Committing to create something before I even knew how.
Figuring it out on the fly,
Make it happen,
My vow.
Like a dog with a bone,
I was tenacious and obsessed.
Never able to put it down,
Never able to rest.
The pattern as I see it was formed long ago.
We make things happen here,
We don't go with the flow.
Have a vision,
Go get it.
Need to relax,
Have a smoke.
Energetic rollercoaster ride,
Lineage patterning evoked.
The irony,
Of course,
Is that I taught surrender.
My practice is yoga and meditation,
Being present,
Its center.
Like enlightenment,
Aspirational,
Out of my grasp.
My mind could explain it,
My heart could not clasp.
I ran on two parallel tracks for much of my life,
Wanting surrender while pushing,
Path to internal strife.
Yet,
My aim was pure,
My intention was presence.
With practice and repetition,
I begin to close the distance.
Evolution,
Slow motion.
You don't see it happening.
Like the tide coming in,
It's a gentle awakening.
Life will knock you around so you can practice commitment to your rituals and intentions,
Present moment embodiment.
I take three steps forward and two steps back.
Progress,
Never linear,
Although I'm on track.
Because the track is our life,
Both sacred and mundane.
There are no mistakes,
And I learn from my pain.
I alchemize rain from the storms into wisdom in my heart.
Words flow through me,
Becoming my art.
Then art becomes an offering,
No longer an obligation.
Releasing with my energy,
This is my transformation.
