When we are down in the Valley of darkness and confusion
And life appears to be an endless delusion
This is the time, when we must stop, drop and be still
Listen for the answers; release all self will
When we are down in the Valley of Calamity
And troubles roll in like a raging sea
These are the times we must quiet our voices and actions
Await patiently for the answers, avoid any reactions
When we are down in the Valley and our hearts seem to bleed
And our emotions are in turmoil; lay still and take heed
to the answers that come, with the stillness of life
Listen for wisdom of truth; avoid stress and strife
The answers won’t come when we’re searching too hard;
they are never revealed when our heart is onguard
It’s only when our mind is clear from all tumultuous sources
That we hear the sweet revolution of truth whispered in silent voices
We must gaze into the cracked mirror to see what we create
We must probe our inner thoughts; because thoughts bring forth fate
We must search our desires; we must examine our fears
In stillness only will we discover the true cause of our tears
Still waters run deep; they allow us to see
the reflection of life looking back at the real me
Troubles waters only reflect an untruthful distortion
Turbulent waves only give forth a reflected contortion
Of the realness and allness that sent us into the valley
of darkness and confusion from unrealized reality
Of those things that God instructs from the difficult lessons
in humility that yields wisdom that blossoms into our blessings
Reposted for Marie. Mist can be tears, can be joy, can be blood, can be sweat, can be semen, can be love, can be hate, …can be whatever…what do you think men mist most?
This poem was written especially for Rick Mobbs at Mine Enemy Grows Older. Rick has been so kind to feature his beautiful work to inspire us to write each week. Due to other responsibilities, Rick has informed us that he will no longer be able to continue his beautiful art prompts. His latest beautiful piece is shown above. . . . I wrote this poem as an interpretation of the art . . . and . . . how I imagine most men, including Rick, may feel . . . at times.
Like Spilt Milk – The Spirit of a Man ~Written by CordieB.
I hold the world with closed iron fists
Though others cry; I vaguely mist
My ego causes my heart to roar
Yet also causes my mist to pour . . . . like spilt milk wasting on the floor.
Instinctively I’m a territorial being…
Not into that which can’t be seen…
Though often I claim to see the light…
Most times I focus on black and white.
Beauty prompts my groin to soar…
Yet also causes my mist to pour. . . .like spilt milk reproducing more!
My thoughts so often unrealized…
Not even I can crystallize . . .
the myriad of issues– real or fantasized . . .
My triumphs cause my voice to roar
yet also cause my mist to pour. . . like spilt milk gushing out the door
My God chose me to oversee…
Why has earth’s fate been placed on me?
Should I choose peace; should I choose war?
Responsibilities cause my mind to explore . . .
yet also cause my mist to pour. . . like spilt milk crashing on the shore . . .
~Written for Rick Mobbs in response to his last visual arts prompt. . .
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My creativity has been at a stall here of late. Perhaps it’s the zoids and pain killers I’ve been taking… In any event, I don’t seem to be able to focus long enough to write anything, so, I thought I’d share something I wrote some time ago. . . Blessings to all of you….
Photo courtesy of Jason McKim and is licensed under the Creative Commons
I can be cold as the bluest, hottest ice
And hot as the bluest, fiercest fire. . .
I’m a false reflection of a conceptional misconception
Whatever your limited or infinite mind’s desire
You listen to my loud, yet gentle vibration
You believe me fully with no hesitation . . .
You see me with all colors of the beautiful rainbow
Is that really all the colors? Will you ever know?
Only if you can let me go. . .
I’m young and younger, black and blacker
Smart and wise. A genius. A true catalytic cracker
Beautiful, and most beautiful – is there really such a thing?
Breath in the melody that I most wonderfully sing!
I can be red, yellow, or indigo blue
Although I’m real in essence, I’m never the truth,
I’m at your worst, completely false;
Incomplete at your best; a simple impulse.
I can be joyfully sorrowful and sorrowfully glee, too.
But, whatever I am, I’m always completely real to you.
Do you feel me! Do you get my point!
Do you smell my noise? Can you hear my funk!
Can you see my darkness? Can you touch my light!
Can you smell my vision? Can you taste my sight!
Can you smell the painful pleasure, Can you taste the agony of the estasy? No matter what, I’m always YOUR reality;
I am in you and you are in me.
If you change your perspective.
I’ll change mine– as your’s reflective.
I am oh so evil, and yet so kind
The world would be nothingness if I were blind.
But, maybe not-how dare I say?
And now I lay me down to pray . . .
I pray that you free me every then and now
From your dear self, for this I vow . . .
Will free you from hypocrisies
And all the false analogies. . .
From judgements, prejudices, anger and hatred …
These no longer exist, once I am emancipated.
My negation gives you insight, free and clear
Of a far away place that is yet so near
If you could release my blessed curse and damned grace
And move beyond object, time and space
For that brief moment in that sphere
You’ll sense a unity so crystal clear
Even beyond your limited, infinite imagination
Who am I, I am simply . . .
Looking in the Mirror to Solve Life’s Riddles Book Preview
If you like riddles, you'll love my new book, "Looking in the Mirror to Solve Life's Riddles." Preview the book, by clicking on the book's cover page, below. >
This is a full colored edition on glossy paper with a few of my art prints scattered through out.
The downloaded version of this book is only $3.50!
If you'd like to have an autographed deluxe copy, please email me at cordiebw@gmail.com.
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