Rawness within the Canvas

Oh the raw dirt slipping through my fingers.
Dirty and pure.
Whilst not floating in airy of the fair whilst digging,
Sifting through purity of the earth.
Grounded indeed,
Dirtier than before.
Tears falling from chin,
Watering once desolate ground.
Sitting amidst filth and rawness,
Awaiting its fruit to spring forth.
What may be may never come,
This moment remains real.
Soon flowering from mother a child is born,
More beauty or just another layer within the Canvas…Ani Po

Silence is Heard

If one is silent can they be heard?

We speak

Words twisted.


Differing from others.

First glance

Judged and misconstrued.


Following differing paths.


Same ending place.

Better to speak

Or remain silent?

Fingers typing response

Or sitting quietly in self?

Observing the Canvas of Life, taking note of the varying colors within the Canvas, admiring all there is. Gratitude for self, gratitude for the direct or indirect lessons, gratitude for every breath. Sitting quietly, sharpening our thoughts, our words, allowing transmutation to change our reality once more.

In silence we are heard.~Ani Po