Ends and Begins

The script for my life

ABC’s 123’s

Counting and reading

Writing and learning

Checking the boxes of an ordinary life

 
First steps, always happening.

Old beginnings, new endings.

A cyclical pattern, unknown was the start.

If I could find it would I understand?

If I could map it out would I better plan?

Could I understand the way my mind works?

Could I grasp something solid with the trio contained plus liquid and gas?

 
Trinity of self. Mind, body, spirit.

Only now I begin to truly hear it.

My body.

A breath in. A breath out.

each one ends. each one begins.

a cyclical pattern.

Of course there was a start to this… There will be an end.

But unknown.

 
I know the start of many happenings.

I know the end of many.

But why do I concern myself with this darkeness of the unknown?

Is the unknown always dark?

Is there such a thing as known?

Perhaps light comes from being unknown.
Perhaps light is defined by something other than known or unknown-ness.

 
Perhaps trying to define this in some form of poetical prose will not help.

Perhaps. A cup of tea.

The breeze outside my window.

Hearing children laugh in the distance.

Smelling a candle and seeing its dim light fade.

 
Perhaps a realignment with my true self.

The one I have hidden back in a forgotten room.

Waiting until it is safe to surface.

For the lights to be off so that I cannot be seen.

But cannot my true self be this one I have created?

Is the true self only the best self?

 
It’s probable that this is another unknown.

Maybe myself, being what it is, needs growth.

Maybe there is not a good or bad or best or anything at all.

I wonder if there is such a thing as just.

just being.

just resting.

Believing that I don’t mark off every check box

I don’t type out all of my thoughts

I don’t finish every book or watch every episode

I just am. I exist. I am safe. I am loved.

To be. Alive. Fearing death more than fearing life.

Or to lack fears at all.

 
The softest blanket taking over the place of a usual lightning cloud

The silent room taking over the screaming mind

a calmness.

a peace.

the start.

the end.

Lately

Lately, I love the little things
Lately, I can’t ignore them
Lately, I also attempt to scorn them

The smile of friendship starting
The smile of a joke continued
The smile perhaps of misunderstanding?

Misunderstood in the past. Now notwithstanding?
Misunderstood, the fear of it, taking over my planning
Misunderstood because of fear of misunderstanding

Living too far into the future
Living with my fears of bringing my past along
Living cannot happen if I drag this on

Subdued thoughts
Subdued actions
Subdued for too long brings compression

Compression, holding back my heart
Compression, keeping myself from ever giving my heart
Compression, lurking in the corner to explode, implode

Hopes that I have once had, moved on
Hopes that moving on is no longer my forever journey
Hopes that I may rest, that I myself am who I really am

The longing mixed with patience
Patience mixed with fear
Fear mixed with longing

Spinning. Around. Stopping.
The words of my heart
The beats of my heart with

One glance
A tone of voice

My name

_____________________________________
Originally written October 9th, 2017

Airplanes and Fireflies

Airplanes and Fireflies
By Winter Burnett June 21, 2017

Stars and fireflies. The tiny lights that light the way.
Airplanes and cell towers. Are they the ones that get in the way?
Technology has this hold on me… that you don’t see.
It has the ability to connect you to me.

When will I stop pretending?
Can I ever change my ways?
These secrets I hide?
The lies I hide behind?

The flicker of hope a ‘like’ brings.
That twinge of regret after a snap.
One retweet would be worth a hundred words.
That tagged status update, a million.

When will I stop pretending?
Can I ever change my ways?
These secrets I hide?
The lies I hide behind?

The humor is geared towards my favorites.
I have a collection of admirers.
They don’t know the real me.
And those who do, I fear don’t want to.

When will I stop pretending?
Can I ever change my ways?
These secrets I hide?
The lies I hide behind?

I fear that I’m some peoples’ annoying, unfollowed follower.
But I don’t fear the internet, I fear the place we call real life.
How do I leave this fake world and focus on the now?
How do I draw the line and not use it to hide behind?

So many thoughts.
I should start another journal.
I should find a friend.

But which ones are like me? Keeping their secrets and pretend?

Time. Life. Breathe.

Nothing in my life slows down.

People always want me to keep moving.

I want it to stop.

 

Responsibility.
Friends.
Family.
Life.
It.
The World.
Can I find some little world to visit outside of this Americanized time?
This version of linear, strict time which sucks the life out of you?
I just want to sit back and breathe.
Not breathe so I can be alive for tomorrow.
Not breathe remembering the past.
I want to breathe in this moment.
I want.. to breathe.
In… Out.
As the cars rush past my window.
Their tires splashing the rain around in a great, never-ending, melodic symphony.
In… Out.
The smell of my bed sheets. Shampoo. Mint lip balm.
In… Out.
Expanding and collapsing. My body moving to keep me.
In… Out.
Smooth as my pencil sings these individual notes across this page.
In… Out.
My roommates reading, page turning, typing, sighing, breathing.
We are all in this state the world likes to call “alive”.
And not to be cliché or morbid, but I am no longer living.
I’m dead.
And I don’t see me being revived anytime in the near future.
I’m screaming out in my silence and only a few hear my whispers.
My heart’s secret whispers.
Sharing secret whispers. Giving them away even though you want to keep them tightly wrapped up inside.
Giving them is not for others to know. Giving them is not for others to find new meaning in discovering who you are.
Giving this secret part of you away is for you to know they have a secret whisper too.
You share a part of yourself, but you find and replace it with someone else’s part. It connects you…Almost a distraction, but somehow more holy than that.
Through conversations, touch, emotion… we realize we are not as separate as we use to think. We realize we need each other to truly live. We realize we are not alone.
But we forget that. We forget that and we hurt others.
If only people could see pain the same way they see things to critique!
Every action is caused by something.
Joy. Pain. Fear. Guilt. Peace. Love. Sadness. Anger.
Take a step back
and
breathe.
Remember the whole world is breathing.
The whole world has secret whispers in their hearts.
Here we are all just remembering how to breathe.
Pause your mental timeline. Destroy your clocks.
And breathe.
By Winter Burnett
Originally written November 17, 2015
Revised August 30, 2018

construct of beginning

Here we have a beginning to something. Something new? Something classic?

I have a lot of beginnings. Mostly because I like to try new things. I pretend it’s not because I don’t form good habits of continuing things. I plan to write new words and also share some old ones. At the very least rereading my old ones may inspire new and having old will encourage me to keep up the habit.

I enjoy metaphors and playing with incorrect sentence structure and punctuation. So if grammar is your jam maybe reading the poetry of this blog will be quite dramatic for you. But if metaphors are your jam perhaps this blog with metaphor in the title is just the thing for you.

I would love to hear feedback or comments of continued poetry… And feel free to share my words as the internet so easily allows us to do.