Three poems in three days.

Fall into the good,

See it for what it is.

Fall into what is,

See it for all that is good.

Please beating heart, let it rain.

Not just for the flowers, but too for the clouds and their crying.

Please beating heart, let the wind blow.

Not just for the breeze, but too for the air to find release.

Please beating heart, let the rivers flood.

Not just for the bounty, but too for what death need collect.

Please beating heart, let me in.

Not just for the love, but too that I can know myself.

Today is a weird day for me because I’m starting to get used to things here.

And that makes me wary because I know that as soon as we get used to things,

the magic of them disappears.

The novelty.

There’s a special feeling when a new experience doesn’t fit into any one of those mental boxes.

And the mind picks up every detail it can, trying to ascertain,

while you,

the holder of those mental gears and workings, smile

at the mental waiting room you’ve been brought to.

You’re just excited to be here.

As is the mind’s greatest strength to build a house in limbo,

it’s also its greatest weakness.

Telling you, “Things will be better when you get used to them,”

as the mind shakes your hand with its corporate one.

But now that you’re here,

you wonder why you even tried to leave that waiting room at all.

Where it used to feel beautiful.

Where it used to feel magical,

to feel used to nothing.