thot

U dnt even need to turn around to c d black..
Its thr infront of your eyes everywhere..
Some grey smoke of burnt dreams..
Some vaccuumed spaces n distant people..
succumbing to my memories..
Some dark closets of dreadful cold painful bloody memories..
An envelop of dark clouds encapsulating deadly..
most horrifying faces..
Darkness eating up every ray of light before its even born..
A black future..d end of eternity..d end of nthngnes..

by Gunilla Norris

It is a paradox that we encounter so much internal noise
when we first try to sit in silence.

It is a paradox that experiencing pain releases pain.

It is a paradox that keeping still can lead us

so fully into life and being.

Our minds do not like paradoxes. We want things

To be clear, so we can maintain our illusions of safety.

Certainty breeds tremendous smugness.

We each possess a deeper level of being, however,

which loves paradox. It knows that summer is already

Growing like a seed in the depth of winter. It knows

that the moment we are born, we begin to die. It knows

that all of life shimmers, in shades of becoming--

that shadow and light are always together,

the visible mingled with the invisible.

When we sit in stillness we are profoundly active.

Keeping silent, we hear the roar of existence.

Through our willingness to be the one we are,

We become one with everything.

R u lonesome tonyt..do u miss me tonyt..