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.

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WAITING FOR GOD.

I used to feel like people tore me apart.
Threw me about.
Got what they wanted and left.
I used to feel like no matter what I did,
I didn’t matter.
Regardless of boundaries.
No boundaries.
Change.
Love.
Open heart.
Closed heart.
How great or poor I was;
Financially.
Successfully.
Aesthetically.
As a friend.
A lover.
A partner.
A foe.
Nothing worked.
No thing moved.
Defined.
Objectified.
Denied.
Abandoned.
Unloved.
I realised it was I.
I that did all those things.
To myself.
Holding on to hot coal.
Waiting for it to turn to water.