MY RANDOM THOUGHTS

She wondered how they saw her, How they felt when they first met her,  The realization they came to as they knew her The conclusions they reached as they thought of her. She stood in front of the mirror, glancing at her image Afraid that if she looked too long, she'd see what they saw Maybe she'd already seen it, somewhere in the shadows of her outline, While she toed the line of self-introspection, Never really venturing too deep, lest she's met with desidolia, She breathes in, another day, perhaps. She's lived in the garden of her mind, A lot more than she should have, Watering vines that the seed of words left behind, The hold they had on her, thorny or soft to the touch. The blossoms she was waiting for in the quiet, The fruits these wild growths would bear, How fiercely did the roots claim her? She navigated the path between the canopies, The flowers, she hoped, would bloom colourful, The fruits? A little mix of sweet and sour wouldn't hurt.    @Sue.Ketter

I used to think my love of random knowledge acquisition was a useless endeavour that had neither value nor benefit.  I have believed that the basic insight I hold into the myriad things I know is of no consequence in who I am, who I become, and what legacy I build.  But here I am learning, a student of the universe, if you will. A jack of all trades and a master of none, as they say, but often times, better than a master of one, hence the continuous amassing of random data. And a master of none, that I truly am. But somewhere along the way, I've found places they fit.  Places that gave me a sense of accomplishment, a sense of belonging, places that held the fragments of my existence as though they were miracles. I am still learning, and even though the span of my interests is as fragmented as a toddler's,  I am blossoming.  I am but a patina, an accumulation of layered yet temporary heavens. So dear Me, shall we then bloom wherever the universe plants us next?...

She smiled, that smile that reached her eyes A subtle shift in the core of her being Simple, yet somehow the view changed The clouds, no longer grey but silver, The beginnings of change on the horizon And all around her, the air became feathery light Flowing with an emerging vigor It made for a sight to behold. She rose from her seat, smiling still As though she knew a secret no one else knew about There was a gleam of hope in her steps, as bouncy as they were Her aura twinkled as she danced in the waning showers of the rain, Inviting companions in her display of faith The tenderness that never left her, giving as she received A gift in the silent echoes af a storm It made for a sight to behold.   @Sue.Ketter

The world moves on, while she sits still in her cocoon,  That question: what have you been doing? It makes her pause. Her sense of being pushed off balance She has neither the energy nor the capacity to answer it. So let it sit as she ruminates. She's running, yes, definitely running, or is she hiding?  From the echoes of dreams she can barely recall,  From roads left untaken, almost taken  From waiting; that's the hardest one really, the waiting!  It gnaws at her bones sometimes. She's holding onto the fragility of peace, One she cannot let go of The sanctity of her mental well-being, It binds her to a false security.  As she hides her discomfort behind acceptance. She's standing in place, for the gravity of it. She's keeping within the periphery  Out of sight but present, always present She has mastered the art of patience. Time, she's giving it, biding it, collecting, waiting.    @Sue.Ketter

She put all her unsaid on paper  And suddenly, the world was much lighter A quiet release of the old, A requiem to all she'd been  Birthing resilience in the glide of her pen.    @Sue.Ketter 

As I join you on this tapestry called life With every stitch I will love you With every change of pattern, I will guide you If you run out of thread Do not fret, rest, I will hold you  And when you pick up a thread To stich your way forward  Remember to revel in the beauty of the tapestry   @Sue.Ketter 

Where to begin, Hmm! There are corners of our souls we keep hidden If they can't see, they can't touch Or so we tell ourselves To bear ourselves bare Would it break us?  Or would we finally fly Ever heard the phrase 'that's not like you'? How would they know  They've only seen the side we chose to let them  We have curated our images Fitting into the different dimensions of our spaces calcullative isnt it? So who are we really? What you see is what you get, or Did we don the masks too long? They became us. @Sue.Ketter

She was both self-aware and unaware Sailing the in-betweens Never really belonging to herself For every phase, she became the place she was Trading one mask for another  Shading parts of who she was  Taking the new forms as though her own Fitting in and standing apart all at once.  @Sue.Ketter