The Invitation : By Oriah, Mountain dreamer

Read this recently and had to share it, it touched something in me and I can’t but marvel at the words. I claim no rights to this, just reposting as a fan.


It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing.

It doesn’t interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life’s betrayals or have become shrivelled and closed from fear of further pain.

I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it, or fade it, or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own; if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic, remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn’t interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself. If you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul. If you can be faithless and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty even when it is not pretty every day. And if you can source your own life from its presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand at the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, ‘Yes.’

It doesn’t interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone and do what needs to be done to feed the children.

It doesn’t interest me who you know or how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the centre of the fire with me and not shrink back.

It doesn’t interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away.

I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.


Her Eyes

Her eyes, her eyes, her eyes,

Black as charcoal…

Every time I look into them,

I lost a bit of my soul…

I trace her lips,

With my fingers…

Croon sweet nothings in her ears,

I wish I was a better singer.

Her body’s warm…

And I know her heart is beating,

I can feel her sweat,

Everything around me is heating…

She has everything,

She’s got me wanting…

But the look in her eyes,

Its so damn haunting..

She doesn’t really know its me…

She wants another,

Yes, as I take her for my own…

She thinks of another.

And when we sleep,

Her head’s on my chest…

I play with her hair,

My heart’s full of unrest.

Her eyes,her eyes,her eyes 

Are so lonely…

I wish she were mine…

If only…




This poem came to me all of a sudden. In a rush. Of someone who is in love with someone whose heart is broken. Sad….but there you are.

As we get to know each other

To the one who I haven’t met yet.

Perhaps we are friends. Perhaps we haven’t met yet. But when I do meet you i would want us to be friends first. There’s a possibility of being something more. But before you even think of the possibility I would want you to know that my heart is tired. I’ve taken risks and chances in the past; followed my heart and it has taken quite a beating. The first cut is the deepest but the rest also hurt.

Here’s what I think. Love is the most beautiful thing in the world. But its not enough to make a relationship last.

So before you think you can woo me and win my affections, you need to earn my trust. Like I would want to earn yours too. Till then I will bury my feelings deep, deep inside of me.

I want you to get to know me. My moods, the way I laugh, what makes me smile and what makes me scowl. I’ve often been accused of making things ‘too complicated’ but I don’t, I honestly don’t. I just don’t get the concept of people who say “let’s go with the flow”, “let’s not complicate things”…and so on. I am wary of such people. Why is there so much fear? If you are afraid well guess what? So am I.

Why are we afraid to express our feelings and be vulnerable to another? There is a kind of sweet freedom in being able to do that. It takes a brave heart to do it.

And all I want is to feel your strong arms around me and fall asleep.

I’m trying to be brave but I am also cautious so if you have the patience to wait for me, great. But if you try to force me into feeling something too soon, too quick…I’ll run away.

Peace Out


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