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lucid slumber of sadness
i need you to come now
and whisper in my ear
of heartbreak and tragedy
rap on the walls of my soul
and shake things up a bit
wake me, rudely, from
this lucid slumber of sadness –
it’s almost morning now
and there is no time
in the bright sunshine
for tears and sorrow
so come now, quickly,
before the sun rises
and fill me up with
all the agonies i can bear
so i can wring them out
and then start anew.
© lotus carroll 2014, all rights reserved -
sunrise, sunset
each day the sun rises, the sun sets
the world turns to create this illusion
your day may be my night
my calm, descending orb may be
your burning, rising fireball
all the while, the ground we stand solid on
is actually spinning relentlessly under us
whatever you “see” is perception driven
beauty and sadness
tragedy and joy
heartache and elation
all of these things shift forms
based on what the angle is
my lens is different than yours
yours is not the same as
his and hers and theirs
even common details
become blurry, ultimately
arguing absolutes and opinions, equally pointless
spend more time accepting
try harder to be aware and awake
be ready to receive whatever
put your energy into love
open your heart and mind
prepare to view from a different angle
try to avoid shame and judgement
see and feel and embrace all you can
expand and let in as much light as possible
before the last revolution completes
and the shutter closes forever.
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Darkness, Light… and Human Development
I have the gift of being able to capture my son’s life, and his essence, in images – already I look back through them and marvel at what happens when passion, love, skill, and an observing heart & mind come together. I can see his life unfolding and see his different personality traits emerge as I look through this growing archive. It blows my heart and mind.
Talk about bittersweet. Can’t stop, won’t stop.
Braden, Age 7, September 2014 By the time I recognize this moment this moment will be gone, but I will bend the light, pretending that it somehow lingered on.
~John Mayer, Clarity*****
© Lotus Carroll, All Rights Reserved
To license commercially, please email. -
She Emanates Serenity
there is a pulse to all things
waiting for us to connect with it,
to feel it vibrate throughout;
some souls can inherently focus to
identify with this never-ending rhythm;
one must be stoic, centered,
like an egyptian goddess
who breathes in light
and emanates serenity.model: Leslie Flinger
All Rights Reserved No use allowed without a license. For licensing inquiries, email me directly. [email protected]
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so it comes and so it goes.
today, i unexpectedly found something of yours lying in the depths of my heart;
i wanted to hold it, to turn it in my hands, feeling the shape of our abandoned dreams in all of its angles.
i thought i might bring it close to my face, breathe deeply, and be reminded of your scent… maybe close my eyes and somehow see yours once more.might you even feel me across these tortured years, gently probing in some synaptic way?
i held my breath and reached out… it crumbled like cold ash from a long gone fire the moment my fingers tenderly grazed it, drifting away, mercifully, on the winds of change.i cannot recall the sound of your laughter.
All Rights Reserved No use allowed without a license. For licensing inquiries, email me directly. [email protected]
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quantum heart murmurs
a few yesterdays ago
in the hours between the deepest of night
and the rising warmth of the sun,
when i was feeling how heavy
the weight of forgetting is,
i wrote you a letter.it holds all of the secrets
i wanted you to know about my heart,
and the way that you left things
like the scattering of leaves
after a storm that never
showed up on anyone’s radar.it tells the story of how many nights
i held your shape in the dark with my soul,
waiting,
and the way that i could make my breath
actually say your name even when i held it.i wrote about the way that the moon
reminds me of the shiniest part inside of me
that you found and then stole
but that somehow still lights my way home
when i feel alone.when i was done with the damp pages,
i folded it into a tiny, star-shaped heart
and carefully postmarked it
to a future you, who may or may not
someday care.
All Rights Reserved No use allowed without a license. For licensing inquiries, email me directly. [email protected]
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I am a rock under the stars.
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My Heart Skips None Of These Beats
The last bit of summer vacation is pressing in on us, and it has largely become this: the frantic run from pool to platform on repeat, a near maddening loop of frenzied obsession, the intense need to squeeze in as much flight, falling, plunge and ascension as possible before the school bell once more rings.
He is reborn over and over again in an unrealized effort to slow the sinking of the sun.
It is both beautiful and somehow tragic in its simple impossibility; it is all at once the sweetness of youth and his slipping grasp on it. My heart swells and tightens as I watch him hurry to soar and float once more.
I feel him breathing life inexplicably into me as he powers through his, and I realize that I love the bittersweet pulse of this life.
To license commercially, please email.
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I am a rock under the stars.
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The Beauty of Change
We collected a rather large batch of caterpillars that were threatening to skeletonize my sunflower garden recently. I housed them in a small plastic container with slots for air designed to hold buggies and fed them sunflower leaf rations (they turned their noses up at other types of leaves) saving most of my garden from destruction while still feeding them. After several days, they all suited up in their respective chrysalises and made with the metamorphosing. We dug witnessing this, and awaited the unfolding of their wings as they became Bordered Patch Butterflies (Chlosyne lacinia).
For the past couple of days, they’ve been greeting the world anew, and as they do, we open the hatch on the container and set them free into my (flower filled, butterfly orgasmic) back yard. It is an incredibly joyous feeling to watch one of them lift out of the housing and ascend into the air and off to freedom, somehow making my heart more buoyant even though it is my lungs that fill with air while I breathe in and watch them float.
This little flapper needed some extra time to dry its wings and visit with another creature who has been rapidly changing right before my eyes lately.
I have a tender love that floats on wings of expectation and wonder for them both.
To license commercially, please email.
