Your heart is alive

“Why do we have to listen to our hearts?” the boy asked, when they had made camp that day.
“Because, wherever your heart is, that is where you’ll find your treasure.”
“But my heart is agitated,” the boy said. “It has its dreams, it gets emotional, and it’s become passionate over a woman of the desert. It asks things of me, and it keeps me from sleeping many nights, when I’m thinking about her.”
“Well, that’s good. Your heart is alive. Keep listening to what it has to say.”
“My heart is a traitor,” the boy said to the alchemist, when they had paused to rest the horses. “It doesn’t want me to go on.”
“That makes sense. Naturally it’s afraid that, in pursuing your dream, you might lose everything you’ve won.”
“Well, then, why should I listen to my heart?”
“Because you will never again be able to keep it quiet. ”
“You mean I should listen, even if it’s treasonous?”
“Treason is a blow that comes unexpectedly. If you know your heart well, it will never be able to do that to you. Because you’ll know its dreams and wishes, and will know how to deal with them.
“My heart is afraid that it will have to suffer,” the boy told the alchemist one night as they looked up at the moonless sky.
“Tell your heart that the fear of suffering is worse than the suffering itself. And that no heart has ever suffered when it goes in search of its dreams, because every second of the search is a second’s encounter with God and with eternity.”
From The Alchemist

-know your heart

To The Reminiscent Man

To the reminiscent Man;

 That always went Back
Foraging through his mind,
making a mess of the place

To make amends to no ends
cant you see
the Past never ends

You search there
for peace, substance
but I can only see what is Here
A Presence untouched

In retrospect,
 the time you are spending
 is only your own
and mine and his,
when will you look upon this time,
and change this end.

As the future goes
It will never come
you are alive
 in each heart beat.
Whether you choose to live them or not.
---
In the end we have to follow the way our blood runs.
because it only runs one way.
Our heart will only beat so many times
The years just keep passing.
you cant go back.
Only forward.

Motorcycle ride

He wore a plain white tee shirt
and fitted blue jeans.
He rode a 1978 Honda
He picked me up on my door step
like a real man should.

I swung my leg around
i felt good sitting on just 6 inches of leather
Two wheels under us
i held on tight.
we sped off into the summer haze.

We left the city behind
with every other care.
on those back roads going fast
everything was simple

the trees engulfed us
making a tunnel for our journey
we went back in time.
Passing through little towns from another decade
Nobody could see that we didnt belong
because
we fit in.

we walked around and chatted with the town folk
they liked us well enough
i thought they'd ask us to stay.
we dined, over a picnic cloth

we waved goodbye to the back road town
in the night, lighted by the moon
we road back to our existence.
back to city lights
but
i wanted to stay.

the curse of an Old Soul.

God,
You bore me to the worng time.
I wasn't meant for this world,
the way it is now.
I just dont fit.


Grandmother,
Trade me places,
Take Grandpa with you.
I want to live when you lived.
The passion everyone had,
It was real, they felt.
They Loved.
I want to feel and love,
and wear pearls.
I want to wear trousers that cover my navel,
and cotton dresses.
Tell me this is how it was.
I want to feel like i have the world at my fingertips.
Then give it all up for love,
and realize that this is my world.

Grandmother,

I want to live when you lived,
And Love how you Loved.


My Love,
Come back with me.
To when love came easy,
and stayed forever.
Then we would have already met,
All the way back to grade school.
We only lived blocks away.
You carried my books,
and i kissed your cheek..
We grew, and found
how big the world was,
and how small that town is.
We left a cloud of dust,
and some hushed good-byes.
Adventure in the headlights.


My Love,
we'd have grown our kids up,
the right way, slow and thoughtful.
we grew our own food,
and cooked every night.
i'd call them in for supper,
after they'd been playing in the dusk,
"wash up" I'd say.
because they would be dirty with real dirt.
kids don't get dirty these days.
we would have taught them to pray,
and love God.
You were my first love, my only love.
We'd be growing Old together,
With the wrinkles to prove it.
But i'm here, without you.
Find me... and lets go back.




God,
you bore me to the wrong time,
though its a harder path.

I now know why you put me here,

in this harsher world,

Longing for the years that i was made for.

Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me

On my way to the book store.
I am stopped by a stranger.
his face worn and wrinkled.
weathered by only what i can imagine.
Tears of heart ache,
like the rain soaks a southern sky
laughter that makes your stomach sore,
like the waves pulling at the sand.
worry that turns you gray,
how the autumn drys the leaves

He stopped me on the side walk.
Just a simple guitar in hand,
Humble of sorts, no show here.
He told me he sang for his living.
What ever i'd like
I wanted to hear him. to be his audience
"what do you like young lady"
I told him i was an old fashion girl.
And he fit the part perfect with...
"Bob Dylan?"
Ah, i cant get enough of the man,
Please play me some Bob Dylan.

A simple song,
Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me
I’m not sleepy and there is no place I’m going to
Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me
In the jingle jangle morning I’ll come followin’ you


I handed him my last Lincoln. 
and he kissed my hand.
"God Bless" he walked away
searching for his next life to bless.


Thanks Doug mays, 

I looked him up and i am pretty sure you can listen to more of Doug Mays here:
http://www.soundclick.com/bands/default.cfm?bandid=713332

Through Your Eyes

Today i saw the world
From a different view.
Through your eyes.
I saw how you see
I saw a Landscape
of hearts on every street,
from the boulevard,
 to the inner city.
Beautiful Hearts at that,
Mendable Hearts.
I saw that with every smile you gave,
 every dollar, every ear you lent,
you gave freely with a "my Pleasure".
Expecting Nothing back.
I saw the worth in every soul,
 as you do.
Each have a past and a future, and a story.
I saw the desire, felt the desire
to help, to teach, to show.
and to learn.


Yesterday i saw the world
through your eyes.
Teach me how.
Skew my vision
make me see the hearts
and the people.
Let me see the poise of the world.
Give me the band-aids
I want to mend.
Teach, show.
I want to learn.
and someday they will see the world
Through My eyes.

Summer...

Summer in Nashville

mm its green, like bright green, everywhere, 

but its so hot that its kind of hazy. 

like you can see the sunshine raze 

and feel the music floating threw

a sugary citrus air. 

mm its humid; hot and sticky, but i kinda like it

There are lots of Bugs.

I saw my first Lightning Bug the other night. 

Fireflys

it wasn't quite dark,

a little after dusk, 

just a little pink resonating in the darkening blue sky.

a flicker and it was gone.

 i gasp.

 i couldn't help it. 

i was in awe, wonder. 

i felt five again.

innocent. grinning. alive. 

another flicker. Gasp.

A glimmer of hope, 

a beckoning of a free spirit,

quietly awaiting the night. . .

.

.

.

.

.

Cicadas invaded this summer, They are these flying grass hoppery thing. Kind of like June bugs( for those Washington Folk)

I actually really ended up liking them...

they sing to you all day 

and they only come out every 13 years to mate and then they die...How Romantic

This is how this summer makes me feel:

Humidity is a term for the amount of water vapor in air, and can refer to any one of several measurements of humidity.

A cicada ( /sɪˈkeɪdə/ or /sɪˈkɑːdə/) is an insect of the order Hemiptera, suborderAuchenorrhyncha, in the superfamily Cicadoidea, with large eyes wide apart on the head and usually transparent, well-veined wings. There are about 2,500 species of cicada around the world, and many remain unclassified. Cicadas live in temperate to tropical climates where they are among the most widely recognized of all insects, mainly due to their large size and unique sound. Cicadas are often colloquially calledlocusts,^[1] although they are unrelated to true locusts, which are a kind of grasshopper. Cicadas are related to leafhoppers and spittlebugs.

Firefly: Lampyridae is a family of insects in the beetle order Coleoptera. They are winged beetles, and commonly called fireflies or lightning bugs for their conspicuouscrepuscular use of bioluminescence to attract mates or prey. Fireflies produce a "cold light", with no infrared or ultraviolet frequencies. This chemically-produced light from the lower abdomen may be yellow, green, or pale-red, with wavelengths from 510 to 670 nanometers.