CALIFORNIA, U S A
alone. all alone. all one. lonely. only. loneliness. aloneness. oneness.
with oneself. knowing the self. the one-self. excavating the layers of oneness, of aloneness. seeing myself. parts of me. everything out there pointing to me. the outer denoting the inner. and what is there? it’s the locked up, denied, pushed away, grey masked interior, sometimes covering the effervescent artistry of the self. because she is scared, because she has stories she holds onto so tightly, so rightly, yet so untrue. the truth is, i love it here. in this cocoon. in this womb. the sanctuary of me. where i can wrap up. be internal. go inside. curl inwards. spiral to the center and keep going into the darkness until it changes to light.
there are so many stories to tell of the journey. of the adventure in solitude; amongst the stars and beings and foreign lands. i have walked all over the earth, across islands, through cities and countries. over bridges, oceans, rivers and canals. breathing in the essence of each. they are in my cells, in my hair and my eyes, and the stories are true. rich with color and smell and sound. i wear their patterns and carry their light. the sea, the cathedrals, the lovers, the paintings. they are in me. in my eyes as i look at you. in my walk as i pass by. in my excitement when you want to know more. i dance them through me. they are in my heart, in my arms and my feet. i am not alone. i am one with it all. the kaleidoscope of moments are in my soul as an offering and my heart longs to share them with you. take the richness, the essence, the colors of me. hold out your heart, let me pour into you.