Day 34: Flow

Today, I got my period (on time, thankfully). I think it had something to do with the chakra meditation I've been practicing lately. I have begun to trust the 'flow of life's and I guess life is flowing through me.

And that's not all that's flowing. So are lyrics. As of last night, post meditation, a bulb switched on inside me and there were words!

So I did write a chorus with the words "four Paws and a bad limp" and it turned out quite nice, if I may say so myself. But the wonder that I was experiencing today was something else entirely. I was fiddling with my ukulele to figure verses for the Four Paw song, when something else started playing.

There were words, there was Melody, there were chords and a rhythm. I picked up my ukulele and began to sing. And the words flowed through me. At first I didn't understand what I was singing, and for whom. Or from whom. Then I felt like it's a song for me. From the Inner Me. It was surreal.  So I wrote down and recorded the melody for future reference. And it filled me with joy. It was simple, small and nothing spectaular, for a song, per se. But I  felt some blockage being removed and a river of magic flow through me. Yes, there was blood literally flowing down my nethers, painfully so, but I felt a release. And that is reassuring. I want to embrace the flow. I really want to.


The song (I'll put up a recording later):

"Look around... It's me.
Look around... It's me.
Look around... It's me.
Look around... It's me.

I'm the warmth inside your eyes.
I'm the creases in your smile.
I'm the home you've always dreamed of
Inside.

Look around... It's me.
Look around... It's me.
Look around... It's me.
Look around... It's me."

Day 27: Wheels on the Bus

The rain will lash

Markets crash

Dreams burn to the ground

In the flood

Face in the mud

But the wheels on the bus go 'round.

Gasp! A whore.

She's open for

Anyone around.

Noone sees

The Injuries.

And the wheels on the bus go 'round.

Colors aren't

For colouring now

They're the face with which you're found.

Children play

With hand grenades.

But the wheels of the bus go 'round

The pitied sighs,

Shallow eyes

Vanity astounds.

Clink the champagne glasses again.

The wheels on the bus go 'round.

Hope perhaps for

Better days.

Hands together

End the craze

No will to stop 

And save this town.

So the wheels on the bus go 'round and 'round.

The wheels on the bus go 'round.