The feelings inside me

Our soul and essence are the embodiment of Love

noreply@blogger.com (Michelle Rebecca Hermon) — Mon, 02 Jan 2012 21:12:00 +0000

When we get our whole world...

Until the rest of our days I will be your best friend.

I will share your moments, your days, and your years.

I will share your joys and sorrows, your successes and failures, your dreams and your fears.

When you are ill, I will take the best care of you.
When you need help, I will do all I can for you.

When you have a secret, I will keep it.
When you need advice, I will give you the best advice.

I will always be with you.
When you wake up in the morning, the first thing your eyes will see will be mine. During the day, I will be with you. If for a moment I am is not with you, I will be thinking of you, praying for you with all my heart, mind, and soul. When you go to sleep at night, the last thing your eyes will see is mine and when you are asleep you will still see me in your dreams.

When I am your whole world and you are my whole world.

In loving memory of my cat

noreply@blogger.com (Michelle Rebecca Hermon) — Thu, 24 Nov 2011 10:57:00 +0000

"Slinky Malinki was blacker than black,

a stalking and lurking adventurous cat.

He had bright yellow eyes, a warbling wail

and a kink at the end of his very long tail.

He was cheeky and cheerful, friendly and fun,

he'd chase after leaves and he'd roll in the sun.

But at night he was wicked and fiendish and sly.

Through moonlight and shadow he'd prowl and he'd pry."

To wonder about wandering mist

noreply@blogger.com (Michelle Rebecca Hermon) — Sat, 12 Nov 2011 16:52:00 +0000

Maybe you are never alone,

Maybe you never wander on your own,

Maybe you are walking in a forest, or by a peaceful river.

Angels always surround you, and maybe friends are always there.

But maybe too dark a place makes it difficult to see, to not see.

To see what is not there, and to not see what is there...

Maybe someone lights up a candle just for you,

and candle light goes a long long way,

But candle lights dont last that long, do they?

And so if you must walk in a dark place,

maybe next time, bring the light with you.

Every empty park bench has a story

noreply@blogger.com (Michelle Rebecca Hermon) — Sat, 01 Oct 2011 13:27:00 +0000

Out in a small rugged old town there is a park with alot of life. It has a park bench where two old friends once used to sit and both giggle and silent away.

Towards the end of each day, a man sits on it alone. He listens to the birds whistle and sing, watches the children play and observes the people walking on the park trail.

Meanwhile, surrounding the trail and bench wanders a little girl with starry curious eyes in the grassy field. She is seeking flowers, the first signs of spring flowers. People always tell her that it is far too early on and that she will never find any flowers, yet she keeps looking for them.

Unnoticed, this little girl walks up to the man and asks
'Why are you talking to the wind?'.
He looks a little startled but shortly responds kindly
- 'Because the wind carries prayers'.

And as the girl grew up, she carried that with her and nowadays the spring flowers are always there in time for her.

A piece of my Love story

noreply@blogger.com (Michelle Rebecca Hermon) — Sat, 20 Aug 2011 13:08:00 +0000

Often I have said "I will not go on another journey, this road is beyond the heights of the earth".
And your grace ignites me, saying;

'You are already on a journey my love..
Go my dearest, do not be afraid, my love will escort you. There shall be no danger to you. It is when you go into strange lands, you will have time to mature, then you will return with learning and accomplishment...'

My love, may I never journey without you!

High trees catch lots of wind

noreply@blogger.com (Michelle Rebecca Hermon) — Sat, 06 Aug 2011 17:44:00 +0000

When you have lost your strength, he will keep you moving.
When you have lost your way, he will guide you there.
And when you have lost all your courage, he will take your fear.
Like a bird with broken wings, he will always remind you that it is not how high you fly but the song you sing.

The Little Mermaid

noreply@blogger.com (Michelle Rebecca Hermon) — Mon, 01 Aug 2011 22:31:00 +0000

Only now did it appear to me. Ariel, the little mermaid in the deep blue ocean had Everything! But she did not have Legs to walk on Land.
She always wanted to walk up there with the others but as she desperately tried to, she would just splash her way in the dry sand as they laughed at her. Hence, she always returned to her ocean. But then someone came along and gave her the greatest gift of all, the gift of absolution. A pair of legs. And you can bet they all lost their faces, for little did they know that She could walk with such grace.

Mine is the night, with all his stars

noreply@blogger.com (Michelle Rebecca Hermon) — Fri, 22 Jul 2011 13:02:00 +0000

At night the sky becomes very dark.
The clouds gather and thicken,
But the moon is very light.
Shining upon the stars,
he can see her smile.

The girl who hates goodbyes

noreply@blogger.com (Michelle Rebecca Hermon) — Mon, 11 Jul 2011 14:48:00 +0000

Together,
Him and I made a goodbye letter.
We shred it into a million pieces and set it on fire,
I held the letter and he lit the match.
We watched it disappear with the wind as it's flame died down.
It left it's trace but it is better of gone.
Like a boat set to sail it would depart and fade,
And should it ever return, it will only be welcomed.

Heaven was dark for a very long time. But now the sun peeks and shines forth. Some rainclouds still pass by now and then, but they don't last as long. At least that is how I see it.
A Good bye from me, for me.

Written in the stars

noreply@blogger.com (Michelle Rebecca Hermon) — Thu, 07 Jul 2011 18:13:00 +0000

A life enchanting like magic, dramatic like in the movies and melodic like a lovesong. Reality can be heavy and challenging together with destiny that is unclear and hidden, but written in the stars. Also hidden, behind the moon in the light of the stars, the Dream and Love can give you courage and hope.
But on Love, should you dare to trust it?
Out there in the moonlight where your destiny is hidden in hope and peace, maybe you can't see what awaits you, but at least it is written in the stars... You may never touch the stars, but if you follow them they will surely lead you. It may not be where you intended to go but will almost always end where you need to be.

Doctorhood

noreply@blogger.com (Michelle Rebecca Hermon) — Sun, 26 Jun 2011 08:26:00 +0000

First year of medical school was a whirlwind. To say you have a busy calendar feels like the biggest understatement of the century. Post high-school and upon entering medical school, perhaps you expect to meet compassionate people ready to save the world. People who are living somewhat healthier and more sophisticated lifestyles, without a la Société Dramatique... WRONG!

Turn the world up side down!
It is like the coldest, merciless, and stormiest mood disorder. Nothing like highschool at all, but regressively more like kindergarden. In fact it is resembling of a Zoo. It is a doctorhood. There are the flock of seaguls, the woodpeckers of mistrust, the night owls, the fierce cat family and the fish in the pond.

As for surviving (and) the immense amounts of knowledge one is required to learn, either you develop an allergy to failiure or tolerance and apathy, the last virtues of a dying society.

The armor of love

noreply@blogger.com (Michelle Rebecca Hermon) — Mon, 13 Jun 2011 09:26:00 +0000

Love is with the one who soothens your mind, erases your fears, touches your heart, warmthens your cold, covers your wounds and protects your weakness. One who makes you forget yesterdays and cares for your everydays. One who enlightens your mind, revives your heart and enlivens your soul.

Soulfully red

noreply@blogger.com (Michelle Rebecca Hermon) — Thu, 09 Jun 2011 11:22:00 +0000

An allergic girl is sensitive to Red coloring. Strawberries, cherries and tomatoes. Red for love, passion and fury. The color of strong emotions. But on the contrary to what one might expect, an allergy will not make her love it any less. In fact maybe that is why the color is so appealing and unresistable to her in the first place. Because Red feeds an emotional soul.

Mother-Daugther secrets

noreply@blogger.com (Michelle Rebecca Hermon) — Tue, 24 May 2011 15:50:00 +0000

A parent can plant a seed and watch it become a flower.
Share a bit of experience and it becomes another's.
Watch a child's smile widen and it become your mother's.

Waterfall of dreams

noreply@blogger.com (Michelle Rebecca Hermon) — Sun, 10 Apr 2011 13:03:00 +0000

A porcelain cup painted with blossoms that touches lips which speak untruth, breaks its fragile shell into a thousand fragments. And the finest of tea falls onto the floor like a waterfall, each drop containing a dream.

The liveliest doll

noreply@blogger.com (Michelle Rebecca Hermon) — Sun, 27 Feb 2011 21:01:00 +0000

Once there was a man dancing with a lifeless doll. A subway performer. His partner was a doll with crimson lips and legs as long as the sky. She was not real but for a moment she had taken life in this man’s arms. He breathed life into this doll. Together becoming one, their legs move in unison. His soul, his essence sailing into her, bringing her to life. ~ The liveliest doll there is.

The puppet doll factory

noreply@blogger.com (Michelle Rebecca Hermon) — Fri, 04 Feb 2011 11:29:00 +0000

In a puppet doll factory, they produce endless supplies of marionettes but take no special orders. The marionette's range of movement is unlimited. They have the capacity to go anywhere. However, bound to strings, the circumstances limit the marionettes. They may think they are in control for they do actually have legs. Only, the legs are not what allows them to walk. It is the hands of the pupeteers that do. They control and manipulate every movement.

The marionettes manipulated by the pupeteer,
My rightup favourite theatre!

The wind blows free

noreply@blogger.com (Michelle Rebecca Hermon) — Tue, 25 Jan 2011 16:38:00 +0000

I wish three times,

Watch them fly,

As far as my eyes can see.
Some day a fairy wind will blow
My wishes back to me!

Flying dreams

noreply@blogger.com (Michelle Rebecca Hermon) — Fri, 21 Jan 2011 10:02:00 +0000

Dancing leaves,
They swing and sway,
Around, around
Till they touch the ground.
Until the branches
All are bare.
Then winter's frost,
Completes the show.
And dancing leaves
Are covered with snow.

Growth of the rose

noreply@blogger.com (Michelle Rebecca Hermon) — Tue, 11 Jan 2011 20:46:00 +0000

When the night is too lonely
and the road has been too long,
and you think that love is only,
for the lucky and the strong...

Just remember in the winter,
far beneath the bitter snows,
lies the seed that with the sun's love,
in the spring...

~ becomes the rose ~

Abandoned beliefs

noreply@blogger.com (Michelle Rebecca Hermon) — Sat, 01 Jan 2011 10:06:00 +0000

Towards the end of a year and the beggining of a new one, introspection seems to come naturally. And after a busy year concerned with aquiring self fulfillment, through beliefs of perfection, self adjustment fits appropriately. This time of the year is when action and re-action usually sets in. If not, the mirror will drown you in its swan lake and dwelling as well as feeding on air, poisoned by the old, will certainly kill you. The rigidness and reluctance to change along with its false safety inevitably holds you back.

Ambivalence suggests strong feelings in opposition. The prefix is ambidextrous, which means both and the rest of it means vigour. The word suggests that you are torn between two opposing courses of action.

But you must make a choice. To achieve your true masterpiece you must abandon your old. Although, sometimes you simply must because it is the only way you will survive, if will is enough to make the choice of abandoning an old belief that is...

The path's unexpected ending

noreply@blogger.com (Michelle Rebecca Hermon) — Fri, 24 Dec 2010 12:16:00 +0000

A path I have walked many many times, a path I cannot walk again. Passing a clear blue sky free of clouds and an explosion of flowers in the colors of the rainbow... It leads to a place completely unexpected.

The surrounding houses there display great character and carry themselves so well. They stand as remainders of tradition, honor and excellence.

After a longer gradual uphill or short steep staircase, you enter a park flourishing with diverse beauties. Of course the flowers are blue, but at least laughter can be heard. During daytime the playground is occupied by energetic little ones, parkbenches of the early 19th century are occupied by ladies passionately discussing trivial matter and young boys (not at school) enjoying their youth. At night, mystic people and secrecies lurk in the park, which I have not really explored, but they are eccentric and exciting. ~ An ambiance anything but bleak.

Passing a river of sparkling blue water. There you find voluptuous trees, some with big branches and grand deep green leaves in all shapes. They usually leave a shaddow on the grass below them in the face of a bright summer sun. This is why people picknic underneath them, protected below from the burning sun by its leaf-branches. Although what strikes me the most is how massive the bridge is and begin to think how ironic it is that I have only passed the bridge by car and never actually walked over it myself...

Towards the end you finally arrive into the arms of angelic hospitality, in which it does not ever matter if you are inside looking out...

Love is life

noreply@blogger.com (Michelle Rebecca Hermon) — Tue, 21 Dec 2010 08:35:00 +0000

Love can never grow old,
Locks may lose their brown and gold,
Cheeks may fade and hollow grow,
But the hearts that love will know,
Never winter's frost and chill,
Summer's warmth is in them still.

Live to fly...Fly to live

noreply@blogger.com (Michelle Rebecca Hermon) — Sat, 20 Nov 2010 21:22:00 +0000

If swiming against the tide doesn't work, maybe your destiny is to flow together.

We don't like It and It is a pain. Step away from It, and It casts glances of disapproval, disdain and fear. It is silent but potentially deadly. As much as a tiny whisper, and It could be a melodramatic opera where the theme tune plays and everyone turns around and gasps... A lie. The lie of It.

And yet the Cowardly lion must face the the dark forest of life, the winged monkeys therein and the Wicked Witch of the West, who is threatening to shout and turn his fluffy friends into flameballs. Without resolve.

The Fox and the Grapes

noreply@blogger.com (Michelle Rebecca Hermon) — Fri, 05 Nov 2010 14:26:00 +0000

The fox who longed for grapes, beholds with pain
The tempting clusters were too high to gain;
Grieved in his heart he forced a careless smile,
And cried ,‘They’re sharp and hardly worth my while'.