The Artist

I'm not a writer, I'm an artist.
Like a lighter, but burn brighter,
Because my soul, spews these images,
but withholds, behind thin metaphorical veils all that lies within.

I'm like a Michelangelo, or a Da Vinci,
or you can just call me whatever you want I'm easy,
My flows are like the river Nile bringing life, reason and mind, to mine.
Because what's mine is mine, for this I need no nine.

It's like in the beginning was just mind, just one.
And that transcended into what has now become, me.
But, who is that? Does this mean that I'm free? Or is my consciousness just a part,
A part of a greater me, a better me, or a better you?

But then that means two, so now the question is who?
Who could this great man be? Gather round children let's see.
I never wanted to be an artist, I'm just a writer,
I just write about what I see, how I feel, and what could be.

Like that time when all I used to watch on TV,
Was Goku in Dragon Ball Z.
I write about love, I write about what's mine, I write about what's on my mind.
But what's on my mind, is now in your mind, so now I'm writing about you.

And you're beautiful, you're elegant, I really think you're heaven sent,
Because I ponder about our journey, and how far we've come. The things that we haven't done.
There's so much of you in me, and there's so much still to do and see.
My goal is just to let you be.

We'll meet again some day, when the sky is dark and the clouds are grey,
But for now we live as if there was no tomorrow, no sorrow, no need to borrow,
Like a great man said, all that is, and was, will be.

I've got your back, so lets conquer this world, one line at a time.
One mind, that stands free. But we all know, that you know, that we know all that is, and was.
But what about will be? My déjà vu is the result of my dreams,
I dream about jobs I never knew, I never wanted or needed, or even planned to be in,

But this isn't about a writer anymore, it's about what you see in me, that you see in yourself.
I was created in his image,  with life in every etching, every shade, and every oil,
But I'm not an artist, so when the words lift up my soul I glide.
Am I an artist or a writer, you decide.

My Rose In the Garden

My rose in the garden,
Beautiful in every way.

Every curve glistening,
With every ray of light,
That shines upon its surface,
My rose in the garden.

My rose in the garden,
Its sweet scent is as delightful,
As it is soft to the touch.

Rare, refreshing, stunning, so beautiful,
You are, my rose in the garden.

A letter to myself....

When will you learn?

When will you learn that you are the only man that can prevent you from being who you want to be?

You will only become what your character defines you as.

What is your character?

It will change over time. It must.

Find yourself. Find who you are, find your passion, find your strength.

The rest will come.

Build.

Build what you want to see. If it's not there, then build it.

You need it. 

But build it firmly. Put in the effort. Make it stable.

Don't be distracted.

Oh, there are many distractions. Many, many, distractions.

You will be weak, at times. But you have to find your strength.

When will you learn?

When will you learn that you are the only man, the only man that matters in this equation.

The only man that matters to self. Of course, you build your character from example.

But your experience is profound, like none other.

Give. Never stop.

You must always give. Give everything you have.

Service to others is the most important. It is your joy, your happiness.

Love. Always.

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A reflection - by Just Ashes

15 October 2014