A Poem For You, Mom

Mom Dad Me

I act as an inspiration for others
A shoulder to lean on
When reality appears grim

But who do I go to
When the clouds of fear block my vision
And I lose sight of the sunshine?

I turn to you

You are a force of nature
Wrapped in a package that I call “Mom”
Holding space when I doubt myself
Reflecting unconditional love

You are always there for me
No matter what

You have bestowed me with momentum
In the direction of my destiny

You are the bow
The bow that bent gracefully
To pleasantly propel me
Along the trajectory of my essence

I am eternally grateful for you

You remain radiant
You maintain beauty
Inside and out
As above
So below

Your love pervades

You brought my body into this world
Then ushered my spirit in to follow

We share life experiences
Regardless of time
Despite any distance

Our connection transcends

Each exchange ends
With three wonderful words
I love you


Happy Birthday, Mom.

(Or because we both know that time is an illusion, happy revolution around the Sun!)


– Stevie P!

Join our Newsletter (Free Gift Inside)



Join on the Journey



The currents of life are continuously shifting
Matching your resonance in each moment

Endings and new beginnings intermingle
Within the infinite tapestry of existence

Everyone enters your life for a reason
Everyone you encounter is a teacher

Do not clutch on
Do not possess
Let go
Let be
Run free
Inspire freedom within others
For the ones who are meant to be
Will join on the journey



When Winter Nods Its Head to Spring

Spring Winter

There’s a certain freshness in the air
When winter nods its head to spring
Walking outside
I can’t help but smile

I breathe in deeply
Inhaling grace
Exhaling anxiety

A celebration of rejuvenation
As everything sheds its past

The sun reintroduces itself
Gently casting warmth upon my cheek
The brisk breeze greets me
With the most jovial vigor

The hibernatory cycle winds to an end
Passing the baton
To the spirit of rebirth
To new beginnings
And to new adventures


Poetry: Surprise! It’s Life


Perpetual flux
An endless series
Of unforeseen mystery

Just when you think
You have it all figured out
Keep that ego in check

We can try to create buffers
Chasing the mirage of perfection
Faking invincibility
Feigning protection

But all in all
We are utterly unguarded
Wholly exposed
Altogether vulnerable
To the whimsical whims of the universe

Yet paradox prevails
For it is in surrender
Not resistance
Where we find our strength
Our infinite power

Take that leap of faith
Dive into the river of life
And see where it takes you

Every experience
Is surprisingly perfect
For your personal growth
And ethereal purpose


What Time Is It?


What time is it?
It says 11:11
Seems like a moment ago
It was just after seven

My, my
Doesn’t time fly?
Cuckoo clocks
Crazy time

Oh it’s daylight savings
Fall behind an hour
Then spring ahead
Wait, it’s not really constant?
Like they always said?

Time is a consensus
Time is borrowed
International Date Line
Go across and say hi to tomorrow
Or traverse the other way
Now it’s yesterday

Oh time zones
Imaginary lines sown
Drive for 5 minutes and cross
Now it’s an hour behind
Go back again
And the hour rewinds
Call someone in India
11 hours ahead
But both are in the ‘now’, right?
Maybe it’s all in the head

Oh it’s leap year
Let’s add a day
‘Cause they don’t quite fit
Had to devise a way
Rotation of Earth
Revolutions ‘round the sun
From the time of birth
Until the body is done

Time is amusing
A convenient illusion
Taking us out of the present
And into the past or the future
Creating a culture
Of anxiety and worry
Can’t talk now I’m late
Bitch! I’m in such a hurry!

We use schedules
Trains, flights and meetings
That is…
‘Til we travel through teleportation
And speak in telepathic greetings

A new paradigm awaits
Only if we let it
What time is it now?
I’m too in the moment
Forget it

Why I Write Poetry (And You Should Too)


Lately, I find myself with almost too much to express through words. I’ve had innumerable intuitive insights, just beyond the grasp of the mind. But instead of trying to explain these feelings of knowing in the intricate, formalized details of prose, I find myself writing poetry.

“The desert attracts the nomad, the ocean the sailor, the infinite the poet.” – Author Unknown

Poetry is, in my opinion, the best way of bridging the gap from the spiritual realms to physical reality. Have you ever had times when you feel something within? Something infinitely deep and profound? Not thoughts per se, but an intrinsic feeling or calling. You don’t know what it is, but you know it must be metabolized and expressed, and poetry provides the perfect outlet. Poetry is the doorway to the land of unseen mystery.

“Poetry is the opening and closing of a door, leaving those who look through to guess about what is seen during the moment.” -Carl Sandburg

Poetry is the plasmatic buffer zone between intellect and intuition. It is the most effective mechanism for the distillation of timeless wisdom and truth. All of the great teachers and philosophers spoke in a very poetic manner. Jesus, Buddha, Socrates, Martin Luther King Jr, John Lennon…etc. They all expressed themselves through forms of poetry. Poetry is a means of conveying the deepest of truths to people operating within the bounds of language and mind. It’s a delicate balance, describe something too much and it loses its essence. Describe something too little and it loses its capacity to be shared. That’s why poetry harbors such an alluring, mysterious beauty.

“Poetry is nearer to vital truth than history.” – Plato

Long, detailed explanations and lists, while being informative (on the level of the mind at least), lose the inherent nature of what is trying to be conveyed. You’re trying to convey a feeling that is beyond the mind, with the mind. It’s almost paradoxical, but that’s why poetry works so well; it’s half of the mind (logical/ rational) and half of the heart (intuitive/ beyond logic/ illogical / irrational). Poetry is an etheric sprinter, one leg – mind, one leg – heart, powerfully propelling forward. And as quick as you glimpse its magnificence, it’s over.

“Poetry is the rhythmical creation of beauty in words.” – Edgar Allan Poe

Poetry utilizes words, but what it describes is beyond words, beyond the mind. This is why, although it consists of words, poetry can appear illogical. It is the medium that translates the language of the heart to the language of the mind. It is a way to explain the unexplainable, without over compromising its essence. Poetry is a hint at the divine inspiration residing just beyond the grasp of the mind.

“Reality only reveals itself when it is illuminated by a ray of poetry.” – Georges Braque

Something like a painting can be too abstract for a message to even be conveyed. Something like detailed prose can be too rigid, too diluted by logic, that it loses its intuitive wisdom. Poetry is the bridge, linking the completely irrational heart and the completely rational mind. And that bridge is something to behold.

“Painting is silent poetry, and poetry is painting that speaks.” – Plutarch

Before I ruin the essence of poetry by over-describing it, here’s some quotes on poetry that I love:

“I decided that it was not wisdom that enabled poets to write their poetry, but a kind of instinct or inspiration, such as you find in seers and prophets who deliver all their sublime messages without knowing in the least what they mean.” – Socrates

“Poetry is what gets lost in translation.” – Robert Frost

“One merit of poetry few persons will deny: it says more and in fewer words than prose.” – Voltaire

“Language is fossil poetry.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson

“Poetry should… should strike the reader as a wording of his own highest thoughts, and appear almost a remembrance.” – John Keats

“Poetry is the robe, the royal apparel, in which truth asserts its divine origin.” — Beecher

“A poet is a man who puts up a ladder to a star and climbs it while playing a violin.” – Edmond de Goncourt

“Poetry is the journal of a sea animal living on land, wanting to fly in the air.” ― Carl Sandburg

Make your life a brilliant work of poetry.

-Stevie P!

Nomads In Spirit


Ah – a new place
A new city
A new face

A new day to explore
A new night’s thirst for more

The serenity of sunset
Filtered through the looking glass
Inhibitions fade
Come get your ‘back-to-a-child’ pass

Who knows who I’ll be meeting
And the exciting mystery of how
Everybody gets a greeting
We’re all friendly now

Will you be my friend tonight?
I’m longing for connection
Where will you spend the night?
Surely we’ll share some affection

Intuition switched off
Reason cast aside
All that’s left is instinct
Back to the primal side

Not entirely there
Still having a good old time
Who? What? When? Why or where?
Forget it, we must be in our prime

Lost souls at a crossroads
Home for tonight we roam
So… so…
Oh no


What A Tragedy It Is


What a tragedy it is

To live in this wondrous world
But only stay in one place

To play it too safe
But regret it later

To have infinite possibility
But only explore one

To have everything you need
But never realize it

To have so much potential for growth
But remain within the confines of comfort zones

What a tragedy it is
To not truly live
But merely exist

A Message to the Controllers


How long can you hold a giant beach ball underwater?
Before its unavoidable rise to the surface

How long will you play a game of never-ending whack-a-mole?
Before you realize another one will always pop up

How long can you block the flow of a river?
Before the water eventually collapses your dam

The sun is always shining
No matter how many clouds are in the sky

You can hide the truth
But it is always there
For those who have eyes to see
For those who remember…

Truth is infinite love
Everything else is illusionary

Fear is false evidence appearing real

Love is the dazzling stillness of infinite possibility
Of which we are all aspects
The delusion of separation is fleeting
As we break through our shells

Growth occurs through duress
Obstacles stand as tests
Our wings are developed
Birthed by challenge
Ready to inevitably fly the nest

Love prevails