Leah Ayliffe

Gold Star - 6,254 Points (June 8,1991 / Toronto)

A Call To The Universe - Poem by Leah Ayliffe

The universe likes to toy with me
in new ways that I never imagined would touch me.
I am amused by it really.
Usually I am lucky like lavender,
no matter what path I choose, it unfolds with ease.
Not today.
Not this time.
I have to wonder if I have betrayed my intuition,
if I have wandered off the path of my heart and soul.
I liked to dream that maybe life let me live in the sky
because I simply dance through time following my inner guide.
When did I stop listening?
It must not have been too long ago.
Is it too late to find my way back to the road I learned to love even through despair and confusion?
When I say things were easy, when I say I was a lucky little woman,
What I mean is that the real world kind of problems never really touched me. Affected me. Hurt me.
Like searching for work, or money, or friends, or figuring out what I'd like to be doing next.
I never had much need to focus on these things since I was gifted with patience and was allowed to laugh in sunshine as things played out like my favourite movie.
I never had to ask, because when I wanted something, I would go get it, and I would get it. Always.
No, there was no need to worry about trivial things that every day people are so concerned about from the time they awake to the time they sleep.
The universe cradled me like a fragile fairy, handing me everything I needed at the exact moment I realized I had to have it.
I never took for granted, I promise.
I took action and did what I needed to do to live the way I wanted.
I thanked the world for it's gifts of letting me twirl down the streets in my imagination, in my land,
I returned such love with graciousness, I worked hard in the things that were provided to me.
Yet still, it all happened so easily.
I've always said sadness was a luxury of time.
I think inspiration may be too.
I think perhaps when my thoughts align with hope and happiness
I can bring magic about the cold harsh reality of their world.
Or so I've been told before.
I am intrigued by this new wave of complications
that are not inside my head.
I feel like I am reaching a high in my mind
but I have become the center of the joke to whatever creatures live within the air.
What are you trying to tell me?
Oh, I nearly forgot to forget about the questions.
I nearly forgot I have to live the answers.
I have an idea or two, and a vision of sewing my shadow back to my soul.
There's always room to grow, but in order to survive I need to get back to before I was sick.
I've been so sick.
My car can break down,
financial stability may loom over me,
but dear universe I am better now in my mind,
I love you! I really really do!
I am so sorry I forgot to tell you.
I'll keep sending all my love to you.
This time I will not wait laying in bed with open arms for everything,
You have given me everything.
I simply believe in you.
I believe you love me too.

Topic(s) of this poem: fate, luck, universe

Comments about A Call To The Universe by Leah Ayliffe

  • Daniel Brick (2/2/2016 6:09:00 AM)

    This is a quirky poem (I'm not sure what quirky means but it sounds right) . This begins like a confession to the universe, almost as if you broke some primal taboo. I felt fear in reading the opening section. But you took control of the situation, combining humor and gratitude, and I was relieved of that sense of fear. Was the fear my projection, or is it really there? In any case, humor and gratitude are superior gifts to the universe. Were I a god, I'd want those two acknowledgements of my (what?) authority, but religions persist in demanding - in god's
    name - that our fear pleases god. I prefer your universe in which gifts are given freely and in freedom accepted - with gratitude.
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  • Paul Davies (1/28/2016 7:25:00 AM)

    Despite its sorrows, indispensable to the fullest experience of living; despite its titanic loves almost never converting into day-to-day living once confronted with simple ordinary needs; I would remain with William Blake that 'Eternity is in love with the productions of time.' (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, January 26, 2016

Poem Edited: Tuesday, January 26, 2016

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