Poetry and Paintings Somewhere between the dimensional space Of my heart and mind My spirit burns uneasy My soul awaits awakenings deep And while my fragile body Screams for more Of the lavish excesses Inflicted on myself By myself My heart beats true Pure and good But my mind screams “foul!” For that is not true!” Not you!” My gentle soul cries With grief unspoken, unresolved That battle in my deepest me Tears my eyes in my sleep Unconsciously awakened By the calling of the aura Of the earth And then I sleep beside you The fantasy of your body pulls The suffering from my soul Tears at the undying self torture That my heart bleeds through Yanks at my insecurities Kicks at my petty jealousies Releases my pain Gentle loving bandages Of cold fired sweat and tears Cover the scars of my heart Wrap them in peace Swathe my wounds with heart Fire and achingly effortless love Rebuild!” my mind screams, angry For you are flawed, imperfect, unlovable!” And you, my love, quietly reply Why?” Fix the unbroken, pacify the pacifist, Purify the pure, Fear love. Practice what I preach Allow my inner self to shine Do not fear for I am with you said the great I am And yet Who trusts that god is there with them Who believes enough to live And know that all will come as it will Who loves enough to accept That all is not YOUR way But is only Gods way Who is wise enough to know the evil from the good Even when the end is so near Who will face the day With head high Knowing that the way was right Knowing that God loves Knowing that their heart is pure and good And is all that they know God needs For them to be You made me I said You made me as I am And that is what I shall be Faith is not determined my books Hope is not determined by intellect Love is not determined by reason Grace is not determined by man © 2005 Carol K England 5-5-05 Soul Before Forgiveness By Carol England On Perfection Even if we found perfection we would shun it. We would pick at it until it was no longer perfect in our minds. Perfection is not a reality, it is only a concept and it being only conceptual means that we can only have perfection if we think that we do. Everyone has moments of perfection and even those are belittled as being only moments, when in fact they are the only absolutes of perfection that we will ever know. We can believe something to be perfect, without any fault and that can be permanently ruined by the thoughtless insights of an outsider; a random statement or act can pick holes in our most private inner perfection. Should that matter? If it really was perfect wouldn’t it be perfect to everyone? No. No it shouldn’t, but it does. It does because perfection isn’t tangible, it is brief and fleeting, it is strictly mental, and expressly personal. It isn’t the same concept from person to person, or even from day to day. We change, grow, adapt and the more we do the deeper, more complicated and conflicting our ideas of perfection become. With everything we learn we subtly change our imaginings. Knowledge is power but there is more to know than what is “known”. What is your perfection today? This is mine. © 2004 Carol England
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