Poem: GoNe

My mind remembers how texture has often taken me to another place and time delivering me to the shores of ecstatic peace.

The feel of soft fine sand as it clings and swirls around in my hand. My fingers eagerly pressing together desiring the fix of feeling every bit of the texture before it disappears through them.

The feel of powdered limestone or chalk fine enough with just a tiny bit of granular residue that tease my fingers if rubbed too often would alter my fingerprints.

Then…

There is also the sounds created by the textures that are enjoyed. Both sounds and the feel captivate me done at the same time I am almost completely gone.

Now…

Bringing into the focus the collaboration of feel, sound and smell takes the texture to another level, higher, the splendor splendidly taking me until I’m lost in being gone.

I give myself these pleasures but not very often and perhaps not often enough but I consent to them just the same.

Even as my thoughts form these words textures invite me to play but just now I deny myself hopefully long enough to make my next encounter that much more gone.

©Exposed Loving💙 6.24.17

Being Awake

It’s not easy living in a world where most commercial things and even some close people in your life want you to be asleep. The norm is to drink it away. Sex it away. Use money to take it away. Use people to take it away. Drug it away. Eat it away.

What is the “it”? REALITY. It’s not easy to live in REALITY while being awake.

Where are you living?

Exposed Lovingđź’™ 6.21.17

*image from Tumblr.