Art, ascension, change, Community, Connection, Death, God, lyrics, Messages, musings, Poetry

WHO AM I.

When words cease to exist.
There is no scope to wander.
I wander when wonder left.
Escape left the boat.
Am I really deep down under.
Vices.
Alarms.
No tales to tell.
Addictions I roll eyes at.
Nothing fills the well.
Mind wants to control.
Soul feels buried deep.
Who I once thought I was.
Has run and played no seek.
Mundane as eating cardboard.
Boxes go to hell.
I just can’t find my self anymore.
Ones self has lost the shelf.

Art, ascension, change, Community, Connection, Death, God, Intuitive, life, lyrics, Messages, MOVEMENT, musings, Mystic, One, philosophy, Poetry, rebirth, relationships, Revolution, Source, Spirit, spirituality

ARE WE ALIVE OR IS IT THE BREEZE THAT BREATHES THROUGH WE.

ARE WE ALIVE OR IS IT THE BREEZE THAT BREATHES THROUGH WE.

Does it bare life.
Does it stand strong.
Does the wind fling it around.
Singing the winds song.
Is it dead, stood still.
Rigid.
Rigamortis.
Yet the air breathes through its vessel.
Perceiving life’s liveliest wishes.
An instrument with no player.
A silent sound – minus the mute.
A foot of the climber adorned with no boot.
A dragon – no wings.
How does one fly?
The day – no night.
A lid – minus eye.
The arc minus rainbow.
Hologram in a bin.
Cherry pie in the sky.
The portal within.

Poetry Bec Hart.

Art, ascension, change, Community, Connection, God, Intuitive, life, lyrics, Messages, MOVEMENT, musings, Mystic, One, philosophy, Poetry, relationships, Revolution, Source, Spirit, spirituality

THE TIDE, THE TURN.

THE TIDE, THE TURN.

The wind it moves,
A sacred dance.
A loose structure,
Pure cleansing, trance.
The wind holds eyes,
In ancient skies.
Orange, red.
A holy bed.
A resting wake.
A longing tooth.
From foot, to eye.
From brick, to roof.
Upon ancient winds.
The tide shall turn.
Some will win.
Some shall learn.
In both, a winner.
No loser, in-sight.
The Earth.
The wind.
Blows wolf – away.
Angelic might.
Prophetic delight.

Art and poetry created Feb 2020 – Bec Hart.

Art, ascension, change, Connection, Death, fun, God, Intuitive, life, Messages, Mystic, Poetry, relationships, Revolution, Spirit

ALWAYS HELD.

ALWAYS HELD.

ON DEATH DOORS WAKE.
THE OLD MUST BREAK.
AS PAIN RISES NEW.
DORMANT SHAME AS A TIME BOMB.
RIDDLED THROUGH.
ONE CANNOT HIDE.
NO MORE.
CONTROL WARS.
DRAMA.
A DYING DOOR.
SUNKEN SHIPS.
DEEP.
DYING.
DEATH.
YOU ARE HELD.
BUT WHAT IS….
LEFT.

ART AND POETRY – BEC HART.