Fold and Bend

This movement is to produce forward flow.

Struggling, as I am against the rhythm,

the beat is not as it was meant to be.

He brings me to self-improvement, I am somewhat unwilling.

Yet to the mat I go...

I am poured into warrior and downward dog.

I fold and bend into shapes unfamiliar.

My level of embarrassment reaches a point near overload.

Yet, at the mat I move into a form unknown...

I hear her voice as it leads us forward into gravity's pull.

Longing for this to end.

Wishing that none of this was necessary for my well being.

Falling, failing and losing sight of why.

Yet I land upon the mat and rise once again...

Stretching forward and pulling back, I become a fraction more liquid.

Relaxed? No not at all...

But knowing he was right and that this will shape me into more.

So to the mat I go...

With eyes blinded by sweat and my breath racing.

I pour myself forward into a rhythm I fight against.

Searching for the flow that was promised.

In the hope that willingness will come.

Being Fates Bitch

Different and backwards

I find myself longing for all the 

wrong things.

Being Fates bitch,

as I always am...

The world turns sideways into a 

feeling I can't explain.

I am no longer just a witness to disaster, 

I have becomes it architect.

Soundless and sightless

and breathless and thoughtless

the wind takes me to where

I need to be.

Tempted by a longing for a want to move

sideways carelessly into

yesterday.

My longing is now a primal force

that moves me from noon

into twilight.

With a calm like angst 

and a determination to burn

I become an idol to all that I should not be.

The passion and rapture

of this moment finally drives me smiling

into the abyss I was longing for.