The Beautiful Impossibility of Starting Over

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I look out at the vast ocean
And see nascence,
Imagine a world yet to come,
Or maybe one that has never been.
It is empty of what we think
We have known; we are free,
There is only possibility.
Save for the fact of my witnessing,
There is no evidence at all
Of our imprint,
So my visions begin to swell,
My heart starts to jump
In agitation and awe:
If I focus long enough
On the depth of blues,
And the sparkles
The sun’s reflection
Stir for my eyes,
Can I force away the future
That wants to unfold?
Can I relegate to the past
Or the never-was
What wants to bulldoze
Its way into our now?
Maybe I am sitting here,
Willing my own disintegration,
But as long as I am here,
Sitting before the vastness
Of the flowing waters,
I will carry with me hope,
The seed of every action
We take to become One:
With our selves, each other,
The majestic place
The scope
Of things.

– TS

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Time and Being

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It won’t always feel this way,
Glittered hearts falling from the sky,
Flower petals etched into the concrete
After the rain like butterflies or stardust.
 
It will hurt to walk, to breathe,
The sky’s weight will be unbearable,
So you’ll try to shield every part of you,
And then it’ll all come falling down.
 
The rain has no message,
The leaves and petals are leaving this world
Without a second thought
About who will witness their passing.
 
We are human; we imbue
The colours, textures and sounds around us
With our own histories, until
They sing or grasp or wail,
 
And it is all we can do
To look at what we have made
And soothe our tender heart, and wait
For our ever unfolding in time and being.
 
– TS

Silence

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the world
can be a
loud place
the silence
can be
shocking,
a ringing in
the ears
of all the
whispers
missed
over time,
everything
nameless
you are
afraid
is
irretrievably
lost.
the ringing
is loud,
a disturbance,
jarring you
to a new
state of
awake,
in which
the past
stays lodged
far back
in time
and the
silence
becomes
real and
holy and
pure. – TS

Seasons: {Poem}

Tammy T. Stone

Tammy T. Stone

Seasons

I come to learn that
Every season has its
flower, and learn
To see the
World as a floral
arrangement in time
(Hydrangeas now,
foretelling rain)
I get the feeling that
Under very deep layers,
The soul of the whole
World lies here,
Fluttering ever so
Softly in calm
Wind.

For more of my poetry, please take a look at my new poetry collection, “Formation”, here!