Category Archives: Inspirational poetry

by

All You See in Me

by liam

I want to become 

what you see in me~

not the worn style 

of my own hesitation,

but the quickening grace

awakened by your gaze.

Your seeing transforms me

as if already whole~

as if cracks were not flaws,

but openings for light.

In your presence,

my innermost peace rises,

Absent of fear,

patient as rock.

You do not name me

by my inadequacies ~

you name me

by my transcendence. 

How is it

you recognize the path

before my own feet

have walked it?

I carry so many shadows,

yet you speak

as if I were made from the rays of dawn.

And so I stand

at the threshold

of your sight~

not to perform,

not to prove anything,

but to simply unfold.

Allow me to transmigrate

into that vision,

let me shed

the husks of my doubt,

and wear instead

the fashion,

your love remembers.

For perhaps……

what you recognize in me

is not a dream,

but this very soul

I have yet to welcome

home.

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by

the Soul

by Liam

Remember my beloved,

not as an act of memory 

but as an insight~

a soft turning toward

the beginning of your beginning still breathes.

For within the archives of your memory

there waits a threshold,

a gate not made by hands

Yet which opens by the ache of love.

You stood there once~

before your naming, before the remembrance 

and the insight that met you then

And has never ceased to seek you since.

Here,

you will not become more,

nor less~

but completely and wholly

what you have always been:

a flame within the great fire,

a note in the eternal sound,

a soul returning to source.

In this sanctuary,

at the very center of your heart,

there is a joy beyond song,

not even happiness, but belonging;

not escape, but homecoming.

To become everything

is to become nothing~

and in this disappearance 

you again become one.

Not as before,

but as forever.

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The Beginning

by Liam

To the music!

Dance, spin, and fly~

not to escape the world,

but to discover it again,

more whole.

It’s in the music

we first open our awareness.

We are shaped, at first,

by its breath.

And here,

in this still moment,

we remember:

we are not only flesh,

but more~

Specifically like music.

In the release from the body,

we are caught by something greater:

the ringing of the cosmos,

a choir of light

moving through the air.

The energy of the spheres,

older than time,

whispers us upward,

lifts us~

like wind whirling

across open fields,

like breath streaming

through a vibrating flute.

In the blur of movement,

I dissolve.

And in that vibration ,

I find what endures~

not an answer,

but a harmony:

a quiet belonging

to all this life.

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Her Light

Liam

She moves through her day

like a hush between

the catechism and confession.

Quiet, unassuming, introverted,

yet charged with a grace

that makes dust motes

seem like angels in the light

each dancing to be noticed.

Her presence, too, always gathers vibrancy,

as if she creates

sparks of lightning with her gaze.

People often ask where she comes from.

Strange—

as if the sacred has to carry

an identity document.

True:

she shines like a diamond

at a garage sale—brilliantly,

but gets mistaken for costume jewelry,

and sold to someone

who became nothing more than a paperweight.

Yet even then,

she did not dim.

For the heavenly never complains

about being misnamed

or being mistreated.

She simply waits,

waits to be recognized—

like eternity

wearing time as the disguise.

by

You & Me

by Liam

At the very edge of this world,

where stars lean close and listen,

where the ocean keeps the memory

of all that has passed before 

I found you

or perhaps,

you found me.

In that quietude beyond thinking 

I asked,

“Who are you?”

And you,

woven of wind and wonder,

answered,

“I am the design of this all.”

Those words rang

like truth spoken in a language

older than breath.

So I asked again,

from the deep aching of my being:

“And who am I?”

Your smile broke like dawn

over the stones of the earth.

You answered,

“The desire, you are the desire of this Design.”

Then something within me,

a gate,

a flame,

a name 

opened wide.

I laughed,

wild and full,

and leapt

into the great unknowing.

That void became a cradle,

the stars a choir,

the dark a dance.

And I moved,

weightless and whole,

as the cosmos remembered itself and me.

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The Dove’s Flight

May she lift beyond the tethered hush of a twig,

Hear the heart, remember its ancient longing,

and the sky will part on the threshold of this knowing.

Let her rise into the great breath of silence,

where the winds are woven from our forgotten dreams,

and the earth below fades away like a whisper.

No cage, no shadow, only the bright veracity of flight,

Let thy soul shed that weight of yesterday,

and step across the air into the widening light.

She becomes a song of prayer,

Of grace unseen yet ever present flight,

Her spirit drawn not by fear, but by the deep, eternal call of the heart.

May she find, in the vast embrace of sky and sea,

that freedom is not in the leaving behind,

but the becoming of all she was meant to be.

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Sonnet: Skylark 

by Liam

As Skylark soars with wings embraced by blue,

This wind does sweep past and through my soul,

And as we laugh and ask, “why?”, anew,

A thousand questions do fly my mind.

For in God’s glance, I find support and grace,

To face the truth that needs to be defined,

For caught in a reflection of Heaven’s face,

My lips shall find that silent proof entwined.

Deep does truth in my soul lie.

Embedded in the bedrock of my being, 

And as I wait for wisdom’s gentle sway,

The breeze shall whisper secrets all seeing.

So patiently I wait for truth to shine,

High Skylark sings to me with melodies divine. 

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The Alchemy of Grief

by Liam

Grief is the icy tide that rises,

Rains streak upon my cheek,

its salt-washed sorrow carving deep

the fragile boundaries of all we keep.

Yet its here, in sorrow’s ache,

where we silently weep and boundaries break,

These tears fall, like silver rain,

To soften my earth for hope’s refrain.

For every thorn that tears the skin

has roots in what will bloom within,

and what was raw, unshaped, undone,

becomes new gold of a morning sun.

O alchemy, O tender grace,

heal the wound with light’s embrace

where once was loss, now beauty grows,

This soul transforms,  with a crimson rose. 🌹 

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The Art of Becoming

By Liam

They say I am growing old, that time is stripping me of who I once was, leaving behind only regret and solitude.

But no, what they mistake for age is something else entirely. I am not fading; I am maturing.

I have ceased to be the shape into which others wished to mold me.

I no longer hunger for approval, no longer lean into mirrors that distort rather than reveal. 

Instead, I have turned inward, where quietude inspires truth.

I am not withdrawing,

I  am choosing. 

Choosing where my soul feels at home, with whom my spirit truly sings. 

Let’s uplift rather than constrain, 

Let’s create thoughts which nourish rather than consume.

Not from indignation, but in reverence for my own well-being.

I have traded restless nights for wakeful learning, exchanged borrowed stories for those now woven with my own hands. 

No longer hidden beneath the disguises of expectation, 

I carry not masks but books, each page a window, each word a light.

No, I am not growing old. I am unfolding.

There is a fresh pulse in my soul, a child’s wonder still alive in my heart. 

The cocoon I once clung to is breaking open, and what emerges will soar to places untouched by those bound only to the weight of this world.

I smile now with the ease of one who knows that simplicity is sacred. 

I walk more slowly, not from weariness but from a desire to see what others rush past. 

I hold silence, not because I lack words, but because not all words are meant to be spoken.

No, I am not growing old. 

I am beginning, at last, to become alive.

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by

The Silence of Everything 

By Liam

Before I found silence,

Before stillness wove its perfume through the window,

Before quietude shaped the pulse where listening awakens,

Noise swirled its ceaseless tide,

Filling the day, pressing heavy upon my ear,

Yet missing the music that longed to be heard.

There is a silence beneath all the noise,

A whisper within the rush of words,

A presence, patient and rich,

Waiting to soften the hard edges of this world.

Let this pour gold into your listening,

Hush, let this become the threshold of wonder,

Let quietness open a door to your deeper song.

And now, at this feast of light,

Where silence graces bread and goblet,

We bless the joy of this beautiful new day,

Grateful to finally hear what was always there.

For silence is not the absence of sound,

But the presence of everything we failed to notice,

Yet we’re searching to understand.

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