The Corners That We’ve Turned

We don’t often realize how sharp, nor round
were the corners that we’ve turned,
such feats, so unfound.

It’s only when we glance in the rearview mirror
that we see the long road behind us – then it becomes clearer.

The beaten pavement, faded, lined with trees
weave a long, winding set of all of our memories
that we forget to recall, like when friends became enemies
or that scene in Finding Nemo where he can’t say ‘anemone.’

We’re caught up in the present, racing against some kind of clock,
hugging that highway divider wall, but it’ll bring you to a stop
when you look back at the journey that brought you to this moment –
our lives have been our own path to create
as we find our true selves in each curve of the road, and
we don’t know much more about the way going forward,
but, slowing down, and looking back, provides a renewed focus.

You don’t often realize how sharp, nor round
were the corners that you’ve turned,
until you look back
at the map that you’ve crafted, so detailed, hand-drawn,
a trajectory travelled from our first few notes until the end of our very last song.

We’re so busy trying to hit the right notes that we forget to sing our own praises,
so smile back at the road behind you, no matter how beaten, no matter how faded. – RSM

Morning Metra Meditation

To think, and act with love in every instance of my existence is the goal I have in mind.

Cultivating a peace from within is the first step;

the second, third, and fourth is to spread love outward, back onto the beings I spend this life with.

The highest vibrations are the ones I hope to be happily humming along to

as I find yet another musical journey to take while I wait

for this train’s trip to end with the start of another work day.

With steady breathing and affirmations on repeat, I remind myself to see the good and be the good in the day ahead.

-RSM

A Comfortable Silence

(Written November 6, 2017)

Going home via subway after a long day.

Energy depleted, memory hazy,

but its quite quiet, nothing crazy,

Just a hum of the tracks we’re gliding on,

and the weight of the world coming off our shoulders.

A Fall Sunday morning, and rain is falling, a calm, unmatched.

A colorless, weightless, shapeless onslaught, cool to the touch;

the sky is opaque, and I feel as each rain drop is a part of me. – RSM

Flying Free.

(Written August 14, 2017)

No look-backs, no worries.

Head up, arms spread wide,

Shooting through the wind; that’s how I feel.

It’s pretty easy nowadays to soar through rainclouds,

piercing through monsoons of gloom that used to leave me saturated, consumed. – RSM