#sonreyes

The poet's desire to hoard everything is making me become the Dragon. This greed is spilling into my soul. Heart heavy like anchors.

Teach me how to let go so that when I fly I can soar. Poetry is so wild and majestic. We are poets in a world lost. Unobtainable, we try anyways.

This universe is fire and light, galaxies of constellations. At the core is life. Flora and fauna. Emotions and spiritual energy. Enchantment amidst darkness. We attempt to interpret. Grab at straws for understanding. Hold onto unimportant stuff far too long. Swirl in circling circles - vacillating between fear and greed. Wings in need of major clipping before we can ever fly - take to the sky. Poet pilots. Creative spirits. Artists on the periphery of anonymity. Torch carriers headed to the dark side of the moon.

That's my attempt ^ to add to your words. Appreciate the question and opportunity. I always love impromptu throw downs!!

Hugs you !!

@sonreyes thanks for the opportunity to collaborate. Such sublime words, and such superb responses! Here’s mine…

To the poet, this world is too much, yet never enough. I'm at the center becoming supernova – burning, yearning. My inner demons tell me to give up. Saying I've been grasping at thoughts unnamable words beyond reach. The poet's desire to hoard everything is making me earthbound. This greed is spilling into my inkwell. My quills heavy like anchors. Teach me how to let go so that when I write I can defy gravity, glimpse a higher plane. Poetry is so transcendent and majestic. We are poets in a world desperate for nirvana. Unobtainable, we try anyways.

before we were born we were nothing at all and then in a mortal cocktail consciousness was born and never returned home so tonight I’m calling home for the first time in years the star stuff remembers me how I was  the cosmos left the bedroom just how I left it the metal that binds this world together grows so cold, so fast so that by the time you put the phone down it’s already cold again I measure my breath in volumes as I lose it speaking to empty spaces the void never picks up the phone I thought I’d be welcomed I thought there would be more to life than flesh and blood //calling home for the first time by alec prado// Photo Courtesy of: João Marques

take a step into a higher perspective

you've done so much you've come so far expand into the love you created

you are nesting in their hearts nothing is ever forgotten when loving is what you do

and I can see it too

sing your poems let them touch your lips the songs still warm from the bottom of your heart where you keep them

sing your poems the ones burning a hole in your fingers the feeling of an itch coming from inside

sing if only to hear them to know their true name they belong to your soul and I can hear it's beauty

hold my hand while we breathe in and out let's take this love story outside