Poetry, reflections of the self, sprituality Zachary Phillips Poetry, reflections of the self, sprituality Zachary Phillips

Two Leaves

Two leaves float down a river,
Pulled by the current of life.
Sometimes they take the same path,
Sometimes the river splits them up.

Yet even when apart,
They travel together.
Because all paths lead to the source,
Still, each journey may vary.

Where one leaf faces rocks and rapids,
The other leaf faces calm tranquillity.
Where one leaf feels the warmth of the sun,
The other leaf is beaten by rain.

At times, all leaves get stuck,
Blocked by debris or caught on a bank.
Or pulled under the surface and trapped.
At these times the leaves must wait.

Wait for another to knock it free.
Or for the flow to clear the way.
Or for the slow push of time itself,
To gently alter the river’s shape.

Then the leaves will float once more,
This interruption quickly forgotten,
Because the destination is the same,
No matter which path it took.

 

Two leaves float down a river,
Pulled by the current of life.
Sometimes they take the same path,
Sometimes the river splits them up.

Yet even when apart,
They travel together.
Because all paths lead to the source,
Still, each journey may vary.

Where one leaf faces rocks and rapids,
The other leaf faces calm tranquillity.
Where one leaf feels the warmth of the sun,
The other leaf is beaten by rain.

At times, all leaves get stuck,
Blocked by debris or caught on a bank.
Or pulled under the surface and trapped.
At these times the leaves must wait.

Wait for another to knock it free.
Or for the flow to clear the way.
Or for the slow push of time itself,
To gently alter the river’s shape.

Then the leaves will float once more,
This interruption quickly forgotten,
Because the destination is the same,
No matter which path it took.


If this poem has resonated with you, I would love your support.


 
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Poetry, reflections of the self Zachary Phillips Poetry, reflections of the self Zachary Phillips

Love Is

 

Love is a mortgage,
A debt promise of pain.
Paid with interest,
For those you outlive.

Love is making connections
Despite knowing they will be broken.
And it’s the letting go
Of the guilt for doing so.

Love is for the small sacrifices,
That contain the hidden joys.
And the memory that’s both
Blessing and curse.

Love is knowing when to push,
And when you must concede.
The realisation that you’re wrong,
And the leaving of transgressions unseen.

Love is the give and take,
The unspoken word.
The comforts freely given,
And those gratefully accepted.

Love is the discipline to say no,
Through begging, pleading and pain.
And the careful observation,
Of limits reached.

Love is tempered guidance,
A shot at eternity.
And the words of encouragement,
To try once more.

Love is a partnership,
A bonding of the muse.
A step into darkness,
Taken together in faith.


 
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Poetry, reflections of the self Zachary Phillips Poetry, reflections of the self Zachary Phillips

Reflections Of The Self

 

The world is a mirror to your soul,
Your happiness will be shown
On the faces of strangers,
Your fear will flicker in their eyes,
Your hope will express itself
In the poetry you read, as too will your ills.

The mirror rejects what you are not,
Thus the world will always be you,
In this way you are trapped,
Rejecting love when you need it most,
And the advice you most need to hear.

Yet you are not stagnant,
And neither is the mood of the world,
What happens in one, distorts the other,
Words can scratch, and actions can crack,
So keep a watch on its surface,
And a polishing rag in hand.

Realise that the mirror is in fact imperfect,
Subject to change, manipulation and control,
Those reflections are more than phantasms,
They have a force that can break.
So watch the mirror,
Be on guard against its influence,
But also influence your guard,
For your actions may inadvertently
Shatter someone’s soul.


 
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Poetry, reflections of the self Zachary Phillips Poetry, reflections of the self Zachary Phillips

Stop Rushing

 

Stop rushing.
Take a break.
You are not lazy.
Trust that you will get it done.
You always do.

To perform optimally,
You need to rest.
You need to recover.
You need to heal.
You need to take a breath.

So do so.
Give yourself permission.
Pour the cup of tea.
Feel its warmth.
Taste its subtly.

The world will still be there.
Your work will be waiting for you.
Return to it with fresh eyes.
Embrace it with new energy.
Attack the day.


 
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Poetry, reflections of the self Zachary Phillips Poetry, reflections of the self Zachary Phillips

The Fear of Imperfection

 

Atelophobia
The fear of imperfection.
The fear of not being good enough.

Crippling inaction.
Stuttered words.
No self-worth.

The fear of failure causing failure.
Not inability, talent or a lack of opportunity.

Just fear.
Just anxiety.
Just unattainable standards.

Standards put upon by myself.
Standards forced upon me by the world.

Others can fail.
Others can be imperfect.
Others can have fun.

Just stop.
Please don’t placate me.
I know ‘no one cares about that stuff’.
I know ‘we all make mistakes’.
I know ‘I’m only human’.

Reason doesn’t stop the thoughts.
By definition a phobia is illogical. 

My only solace comes from the diagnosis.
Knowing that I am not alone.
Perfectly imperfect, together.


 
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Poetry, reflections of the self Zachary Phillips Poetry, reflections of the self Zachary Phillips

What Moves You?

 

What moves you?
What do you enjoy?
What do you wish existed?

What puts you into a state of flow?
What do you do for fun?
Focus your efforts there.

Money, fame and rewards may come.
How much is enough? Always more.

A fickle dream that can never be reached.
Thus, you will never be satisfied.
Instead, you should embrace the process.

Let your actions speak for themselves.
Let the art take center stage.
Open yourself to the muse.

Let it work through you.
Let it guide your hand and
Buttress you with self-imposed discipline.

Success is an internal state.
No level of external reward
Can replace your inner truth.

So have fun.
Lean into the projects that bring you joy.
Make your work another form of play.


 
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Poetry, reflections of the self Zachary Phillips Poetry, reflections of the self Zachary Phillips

Searching For Meaning

 

Folly be to those who act blindly,
Who move before they look.

Confidently striving,
Never questioning.

Doing what feels right,
Because it feels right.

Binary decision making,
Disguised as rationality.

Running towards death,
Believing in their process.

Never asking the important questions,
What if I am wrong?

Who am I?
What is Rightness?

What is the point of this life?
Does such a thing even exist?

To search for meaning
We must challenge all assumptions.

Taking the time to think
Beyond mere pleasure and pain.

Training our minds to contemplate,
To detach and focus.

This is not easy.
Discipline is needed.

A sharp focus,
Gazing towards the eternal.

Embracing life’s pleasures,
But not at the cost of the search.

A knowledge that we must seek truth,
Because nirvana may be within reach.


 
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Poetry, reflections of the self Zachary Phillips Poetry, reflections of the self Zachary Phillips

There Is No Rush

 

There is no rush,
You are already there.

It is all around you.
It is in the moment,
And it is the moment.

There is nothing to be done,
And no one to do it. 

No words spoken.
No rituals performed.
No sins cleansed.

Just an opening,
Just a realisation,
Just an acceptance.

Of silence,
Of the present,
Of reality.

As it is,
For what it is.


 
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Poetry, reflections of the self Zachary Phillips Poetry, reflections of the self Zachary Phillips

What Moves You?

 

What moves you?
What do you enjoy?
What do you wish existed?
What puts you into a state of flow?
What do you do for fun?

Focus your efforts there.

Money, fame and rewards may come in time, but don’t let materialism drive you. It is a fickle dream that can never be reached.

How much is enough? Always more. Thus you will never be satisfied, never truly happy.

Instead, you should embrace the process.

Let your actions speak for themselves. Let the art take centre stage.

Open yourself to the muse.
Let it work through you.
Let it guide your hand and buttress you with self-imposed discipline.

Success is an internal state.
No level of external reward can replace your inner truth.

So have fun.
Lean into the projects that bring you joy.
Make your work another form of play.


 
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Poetry, reflections of the self Zachary Phillips Poetry, reflections of the self Zachary Phillips

Your Actions Are A Prayer

 

Your actions are a prayer,
To the Gods of functionality.
Your mind, your body, your spirit.
Honour them.
Wake early.
Sit in silence.
Then move,
Attend the iron church, or run, or dance.
The Gods smile upon those who act.

You are what you do.
So study your craft.
Work on your craft.
Share your craft.
Take criticism and praise in the same breath,
You are neither as good or as bad as they say.
Embrace the daily grind.
Work when nobody’s looking.
Work when nobody cares.
Work when you are doubting yourself.
Work, because to you, work is play.
Push through all resistance.
The lights are never all green.
There is always a reason to stop.
Don’t.

Your actions are a prayer.
You are what you do.
So act like the best version of you.
This is the true power of
Faking it until you make it.
Of embodying your true calling,
Of greatness.

This change will take time.
There is a lag between action and reward.
And when it does come,
It won’t be announced with fanfare.
Growth will be incremental.
Small gains,
Tiny improvements,
Minute advancements.
This is as it should be.

So act.
Act as a prayer to the Gods of functionality.
And have faith.
Faith in the process,
Faith in the future,
Faith in yourself.
And remember,
You are what you do.


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