Tuesday, May 3, 2016

What Is the Cost of life?


What is the cost to live?
To swim in that bold exuberance everyday.
To live each moment with an unrelenting zeal.
What is the price of fire?

So much this dream has to give.
Running barefoot through the laughing flowers of May,
To live each hour with a joy that borders surreal.
The breath of life never tires.

So accustomed to the sounds and smells of this life,
Comforted in the predictability of happiness
We think these days last, the present tense as it is.
Years storm pass, to form brigades of sadness

But alas a pipe is heard,
Through a blighted valley, its tune is a payment due.
The things we've loved now slip from our eyes like tears.
In its place an emptiness.

There is no thought nor word,
That can bring solace, nor return what we once knew.
Our debt to life - finality, the loss of what is dear.
This is price of closeness - this is price of living.
Fini                              
                                                     by Steve Cebula

Sunday, May 1, 2016

connecting to the "i am"


Real. Everything is so real right now. I am experiencing moments in such full rounded emotion. Letting myself feel is the best decision I ever made. I tear up everyday. Because everyday is new. Beautiful, hard, painful, enchanting, new. Every moment has a new experience, new feeling to feel and I want to feel them. I am so excited for life. Life is now and now is me. All my reality is me. My truth, my moments, my thoughts. I am. I truly feel like I am tapping into a pool, a circle of existence in unison with all. The earth is here with me and I want to drag everyone I meet in too. This pool is the essence of existing and I am taking part. I am living now. Fully. Alive. The glory of God is man fully alive, I see it. I am in my full glory when I am fully alive. Wholly me. Truly feeling. 

The physical world feels like a clever, beautiful collaboration of icebergs. Everyone is taking, acting, feeling, being on such a small scale. It brings me true pain to see people operating solely in the physical. Oblivious to the mountains that lie beneath their actions. There is so much more. I am crying as I write this. Existence is so real. So true. So raw. So infathomably beautiful. There is so much life to take part in. I want it all. I want to be. And I am. 

- johanna b, april 12, 2016

The Grinder and the Fire-Pit

There is no freedom in what's displaced,
In exchange for this dangerous ride.
The cages we forged for generations.
The chains ever tighter as the years weep.

In soliloquy the fiery tongues talk.
Precariously you toe the cat-walk.
The flames tickle the tips of your vague hopes.
Melting inside cherry red plastic vaults.

The routine beckons, obedience, on time.
Your conditioned like a soldier day by day.
You prepare for your daily reassembling.
Becoming a number in the chain link.

The gears cry out for the unseen pieces.
Resist as you might, a pet on a leash.
Engine whines, you smell the sickening smoke.
Finally, surrender, you embrace the beast.

Look at your neighbors just humming go along.
They sing in unison with with your loved ones.
A conniving conveyor, deaf to whats ahead.
Mesmerized blinders filtering in smiles.

The machines of capital we feed with souls.
The Grinder and Fire-pit demand their toll.
Upon billows 'n plumes toiling spirits float.
Lost to anonymity the sad clouds roll.
                     by Steve Cebula, May Day 2016