By It’s Very Nature, It Is Immeasurable.

How can I love you all equally?

When love cannot be measured.

I cannot sift and pour my love

for you and your magical giggles.

There is no weight to weigh

when I attentively listen to your latest interest.

There is no volume to the gratitude I feel, which is love,

when your rabbit noses twitch merrily at my hands

as we greet each other good morning.

No. There is no way to measure it.

The joy that emits from your eyes when we run to greet one another.

Yet…I love you all. 

Equally so, although different in its ways, I love sharing

a laugh with a stranger. The immeasurable love that is the sky!

How or why should it be measured or questioned when the isness

of it all is far greater, far more comforting, than weighing the

whys and hows. There is no measurable means which is why love

spills out so easily and overflows bounds to reach all it can.


Love and blessings, đź’• Carrie

2020 http://www.carriedforth.com

The Unforgotten Friend

I remember you. Your smile.

The light you always shine on everyone.

Not just me. Not just your friends.

But all who passed you by. 

You saw the good in all our eyes.

You asked all the right questions.

Remembered all the right moments.

You where peace and calm.

Fun and love. Everything rolled into one.

I wish forever, and a day, I could have told you

how special you are. You where.

At the time I did not see. How unique. How different.

You where to all around. You made it look so simple.

Leaving us feeling profound. Warm, fuzzy, and alive.

Thank you for that. For you I strive to be the very thing you where.

With a twist to make it mine. It’s a life’s journey. Simple, but 

almost impossible at times.
2020 http://www.carriedforth.com

Maybe I Could Always See.

It all unfolds in front of me.

I should embrace all that I see,

But some of it is cast in mist 

Hiden behind a backward twist.

I pay close attention.

See all I should not mention.

Absorbing and transmutting it.

Until I realize, I could always see it.

The pain and heartache. The soul crushing tears.

The screaming and yelling. The belief in our fears.

It all was up in my face. 

Until I decided to replace

The burdens and the heartaches. All of the rest.

With a gentle, quiet knowing that You would take care of this.

My Heart Aches For You.

World. In your beauty. In your windy, winding breath.

My heart aches for you.

For all we put you through. For all we expect from you.

For all you give to us. May we show our gratitude. Our love for you.

Our joy and sorrow, too.

Oh, world, my heart aches for you.

In that aching it has broken wide and open. It is true.

But I Don’t Want To Write About Love.

Do you know what love is?

What it feels like?

What it looks like?

What Love is?

I do. I don’t want to write about it.

Why?

Because it grips, holds, pulses breath through my very veins.

It’s too personal, emotional, real.

Yet it pours onto the page like honey from the spoon.

Slow. Calm. Sweet. Engulfing.

Leaving pause to wonder. 

What is love?

Why would one what to write about it?

When it’s the breath of life.

Seems redundant.

I hear you sigh…that long winded breath you release when I am petulant.

So I write. About love. Universal. Unconditional. Breath of all breath. Love.

As it should be. Pure. Simple. Heartwrenchingly beautiful. Joyful. Painful.

Even when I don’t think there are more words for it. I write.

But I don’t want to write about love.

Yet I cannot stop.