-The Beginnings of Love-
Ready to Burn~
We have just begun to build embers.
Tiny blocks of fire burn with determination below cold bones up top.
They whisper secrets of what will come. Utterances unsure
of their own existence but enough movement to stir curiosity.
At the moment, only coals and redness though.
And they grow slowly, on purpose.
Like angry men waiting in the shadows for revenge.
These things take time.
This fire, this passion, is going to take a long time to really be built
and take root. It will be formed in small bits.
Before you know it, you'll be long gone in the thick of it.
It will end up being the longest night of your life.
Best steady ourselves and hold on.
I take gracefully, as he gives freely.
What the soul wants more than breath itself is to feel secure in knowing it is safe and is seen by another in it's totality, lovingly. To be understood.
This is love, maybe only in our minds does it truly exist, ideal and perfect...but it is the love the soul needs to breathe freely.
Love is the mist the sun makes from the water sitting on the earth...Ideal and perfect in it's cyclical relationship...just waiting to be inhaled and turned into light. Being truly loved is breathing for the soul~ ♥
When you're near me, as if without consciousness or effort,
I crack open and a flood of gold pours out.
Soft cells crumble into themselves and a flow within me grows easy.
No longer stuck on staccato things seem right.
Warmed by osmosis, simply by default and I am opened.
No longer holding, on guard just in case, waiting on pause...
I bend and fold like a canopy under the weight of limbs entwined.
An ease of being takes over and I grow wider from within.
Yet unseen on the outside, a lightness grows deep inside,
showing the way that has stayed secret for too long.
I now know that I can melt, so I do.
©5/19/11 by Danya Mosgofian
Outside the wind blows stirring up dust inside.
Churning and thoughts, memories and warmth beckons quietly, softly reminding
me I am still tender and alive.
The house stands still, unmoving, unaffected save for a few shutters and branches
beating diligently against the sides reminding this house, that it is still vulnerable
despite immovable. You cannot hold on forever.
'Time will change you'...the wind says.
Don't stay still for too long, you will forget how to flow.
'Let me in', the wind says...'I come with.'
I come with things. Things to remind us, things that break our hearts,
things that stir our desires until we can no longer see straight as
we topple from side to side from too much resistance to the wind that wins.
Soft and warm inside.
Cold and strong outside.
Bringer of things, bringer of more.
Dust and stories laced into sharp crisp gusts that rush by,
sewn into the wind.
Carrier of too much, yet nothing but sounds to haunt.
The wind blows as much as it pulls you in, like a vacuum bringing you down to earth in one final thud of humility.
And when the noise dies down, sun breaks into sky, blinding us so we can see the light of day again.
Let the heat of the moment bolster you up like a fortress of warmth, opening your body like the shutters that once held back the night.
Let in the light and bake your soul dry, stretching outwards to embrace what the wind was breaking at your sides to bring you.
Quiet now wind...you've done enough.
©5/10/11 by Danya Mosgofian, photo by Sean Daniels
~I want the kind of love that fills the emptiness in my heart so that when it overflows and spills out, it fills up the rest of me~
Music to my ears.
And I will rise up to meet him, breath for breath inhaling, breathing out, inhaling deeper, into pure love.