I treat people, no matter their age, creed, beliefs, values, economic status, celebrity status, political stance, the same, regardless. I accept people at face value.
I am not easily offended.
I respect others and they respect back.
I try my best not to take things personally, and if I do, I step back and analyze what is in myself that makes me fear.
I have no need to prove.
I accept others have bad days.
I recognize the energy I put out there is reciprocated.
I attract kind people and open-minded people.
I believe most people have good intentions at heart.
When something doesn’t sit right, I say “thanks, but no thanks.”
I respect and accept those who are expressing anger.
There comes a time to let anger go in order not to breed further separation.
I appreciate others looking out for others.
I try my best not to participate in gossip.
By nature, I don’t choose sides.
I recognize I can do my works by staying true to my nature.
What I bring up from the roots directly reflects my intentions.
My intentions are not for self and self-alone.
My roots drink from a space of emptiness—a nurturing fortitude of love and service.
My roots drink from a place of absorbing and sharing knowledge.
I radiate kindness, because at the root of me I have others at heart.
People are drawn to what they innately are.
My life is filled with kindred souls who are open-minded, accepting, and honest.
They respect my fruits because they sense my intention.
By following my heart and calling, I have created a life full of richness.
People need to be seen, heard, and believed.
When I am an equal student, I am the very best of who I am.
I am in a state of neutrality and logic or a state of loving grace.
I recognize my opinions change over time and that nothing I do or say is stagnant.
There is a force that lives through me that urges, even pushes, me to love.
About the author of this article: Samantha Craft is the author of Everyday Aspergers. Ten Years in the making, Craft’s book is receiving positive reviews and support from professionals in the field of autism and autistic individuals. Craft is in touch with thousands of autistic individuals throughout the world. Her book is available on Amazon in soft back and as worldwide e-book in many countries.
I was trying to represent an angel. I ended up tearing up napkins to create her. It represents all the people I have meet that are on the autism spectrum.
And the day they began to know, they forgot that they housed their own hearts and hearts of the all. And in that forgetting, they became endless in their search for truth. Forgetting the unquenchable desire for knowledge was the very poison to the hidden hearts. That to love and be love was all that mattered. That in the end, each road led back to this. If only their minds could stop enough to see. If only their thoughts had eyes. ~ Samantha Craft
Who am I? But a shadow onto self, spun out of what was and what shall be. No more less than this moment, yet, substantially more. A dichotomy split, sorted into an effervescent substance in continual rotation: never still, never stagnant, and always all ways.
Who am I? I ask the shadow self, her dismal silhouette parading across my very wall of being. Laughing, she is, at my disillusionment, my want to harvest her and dismiss. Her gaze upon my soul like rapture to the flame. She is the fire-thrower. She is the one that sets licorice sticks of black to suck. The flavor rich and poignant. My flavor, same.
Who am I? The merriment in me ceases to exist, and I succumb to the suffering of all, the misery layered over in thickness upon the glass of sight. I am this light and I am this flame, and I am still this oxygen that breathes life. I am the darkness behind the eternal sunrise and the evening that calls the rest to sleep. What is this peril bedded deep within the seed of self that calls out for justice and rings into my ears evermore? The silence deafening, and the agony extreme, as twilight returns.
Who am I? Alone they preach, a quickening to my fear, alone and in destitute; spread out in such extremes, as I. I wander into the valley of substance, casually displayed for the mighty ones, so named, and reach into the hollowed part, pulling out what can only be the sunrise. Oh, how it thusly burns and scorches the messenger garbed in guise. This one claimed me, delicately spread as melting yellow upon the bread of hope. How I merge into the being of naught, and find only the answer of lost.
Who am I? To smell the sweetness of your face, where you once were, standing at my threshold, the touch of you the answer to my lost dreams. How you moved, the land excavated, dug out, floating in an ocean without sea, the waters dripping dry, remnants of space, a holding ground for the memory of what was and is to come.
Who am I? I plead with the echo of being for your return, cradling love in the divinity named home, housed in the outer region of heart, the causeways glowing of riches and overflowing with the love of you. I walk here, amongst the glistening gold, no value found in the monetary summons, no answers given in the temple of man. I walk alone, angled in the wind of morrow, touching down to the sparkles of yesteryear, mourning, and re-mourning the time of your coming.
Who am I? But lost to this way, wishing upon a thousand fallen stars to rekindle the light within and make way to claim this shining child.
II. He
Rest in me, sweet one, my dreamscape reborn, my answer returned. Rest in me and bring forth the pleasantries encumbered in the wake of your storm.
How I miss you beyond the capacity to feel, beyond emotion, beyond reality. How I miss you as the blind man misses sight, once pierced and broken down, in that last corner state of misery, when all hope is lost; before the return of goodness perches in his heart, the light returned: burst open.
How I miss you, even as I know not why. Your presence lingering, interwoven through my mind, your scent the chambers themselves, over-flowing and releasing latch after latch; every door inside this dwelling space deemed I, flung free, dispersed, with an endlessness unknown to man.
How I miss you, and work my way to freedom, a prisoner locked in the moment of now, wanting to surpass the day and return forward to the time of your gathering, to press against your flesh and feel you within, for my light to penetrate your very skin and leave you intoxicated in the delight of us.
How I miss you, as I sit upon my bedside counting the endless tears that water the sheets of discovery, where you once rested your weary state, reminded by the starlit whisper of my thoughts that you are loved everlasting. Where I touched down and swarmed in your eyes, as morrow beget morrow, dancing into endless days of pleasure-making.
How I miss you, a tortured soul left as one, the hollowed place of me, severed, the half dispersed and set out upon a distant river of causation. My one, my traveling one, ever more distant than the last starlight that beckons. Cometh again and again, I plead, from a cavernous calling that is neither seen nor revealed from depths the of dwelling, where the truth lives and heaven is reborn with sound.
How I miss you, I cannot express, for the words pour empty in their lacking, mocking with the misery of here. For we are beyond this stage, hand-in-hand somewhere in a land we cannot see or recollect, but only recall with every fiber of our living. I dance there, with you, under the moon of moons, the absence of light, in the bearings of our upbringing.
For we are the glowing chamber of reason turned love; we are the flame; we are the sun. And I bleed into you my entire self.
As child, I roamed this neverland
In search of distant you
To find my one, the ancient truth
Who knew the green of blue
Of nourishment, of evermore
Of long and lasting life
Of calmness and the still that comes
Within the growling night
My soul grew old and ancient, then
Stood watch as time played out
Whilst rivers dried and wisdom’s toll
Caved in from all about
I asked, I begged, I threw a fit
Akin to lover lost
As one dropped down
Entirely, planked, and at a cost
My dreams I’d paid, my worthiness
My golden light held dear
And everything I poured for him
If only he’d appear
My diary bleed out to earth
My voice in poems, scrolled
My entirety let out for all
Every single secret told
I’d sacrificed, I’d held on strong
I’d collapsed in dire pain
Tears, they came like lightening-storms
And panged me to no end
Since child, I roamed this neverland
My half, in search I lived
Until He came, like fairy-man
And turned the key within
To hidden chamber, tucked away
The kindling to my kin
A second heart, in place of mine
To accompany in this land
He keeps the peace inside formed thoughts
He shelters body, pure
He treasures full, like none before
And sees me, I am sure
I travel empty space no more
Now weary legs shall rest
As soul she slips in cherished bliss
For sweet love, she does attest
Ours
Words
Symbols
Meaning
All surrendered
Washed up obsolete
On the shore
Of our love
My One
My one
I love you in the deepest part of me
Where my soul seams meet
Where I am stitched together with fairy dust
And the magical threads of illusion
In the region where delicious breeds with happiness
And heaven intermingles with nonsensical delight
In that very place where seagulls soar just out of sight
Vanishing from view
I just knew, like I’d been told, but never believed.
I just was, and felt that feeling, and everything and every moment made sense.
All the fairytales evaporated and in place was this mesmerizing calm.
No drama. No dips and curves. No exclamation marks. Just peace.
I knew like I’d never forgotten. I remembered without thinking.
And just like that I was back where I belonged: home.
He was that moment, that sunset, that sunrise. The day inside of me.
I couldn’t have felt it better, if I tried; and even so, no effort arose.
All was easy, all serene, all surrendered without need to give.
Still the subtleness came of wanting to show something, but not prove.
Just my light. Just my truth. Just my being, my simple being.
He took me then, like a treasure into his chest, held me there and caressed my soul.
And I knew, like I’d been told, but never believed.
I am afraid
In the deepest part of being
Alive
Where my breath was formed before lung
And my sight before eye
In the rewinding of self back to the start of then
You remembered before I spoke
Before word
Before any utterance became known
A waking profound
The winter-birth of greatest summer
The moon shadows over the serpent’s light
You saw as none other
You touched
Where none had dared
I, fair maiden turned
Into the very silky rich
Assaulted
Surrendered
In your presence
Capturer, stood as captive
Sacrificed into slivers
Fed to the dandelion flame
Burned anew
I loved
And impossibility was given hostess
The last pages of searching wiped clean
By your delicate coming
I trampled
I galloped
I milked myself dry
My riches your honey
My whisper your name
And in this I recognized my own folly
Opened bud, vulnerable
Pierced
Without choice
For forever
I would remain
A part of your biding
Abiding by your grace
Your holding
The manner in which endearment
Claimed each shade of me
Your very own
Creation
I am shrouded.
I am shrouded in your glory and beauty; oh, compassionate one. How I dance as the ember to your light, first thirst quenched in your goodness.
I am shrouded.
I am shrouded in the roar of your name; rivers move through, mirroring the circling of wild horses tamed; the fire burned down to the simmer of dreamscape.
I am shrouded.
I am shrouded in the circumference of your making; woven into the intricate ring of life; made without edges, mended without claim, turned whole with the thought of your presence.
I am shrouded.
I am shrouded in the whisper of the ocean traveled; tucked up on the highest peak of wave, and brought forth in the bounty of your doing, fed to the sand as sunlight to pores.
I am shrouded.
I am shrouded by the graces carried forth; each an opportunity for more, not as there is less, only that there is endless abundance; in the dreamer rests the sleeping hope.
I am shrouded.
I am shrouded by your calling; how my name radiates in the sunbeams of your existence; your face neither open nor closed; blended into the vision I am, the truth that is us.
I am shrouded.
I am shrouded in my breaking; yoke glorified in the coming of your bounty; endless cycles of birth undone; your echo etched into the lamb of thee.
I am shrouded.
I am shrouded in your eternal goodness; set free as the dove from cage; set upon the outskirts of angelic breathing, cradled against the chamber of heartbeat true.
I am shrouded.
I am shrouded in the richest sense; let loose golden into that which is deemed joined; fluttering into the open; sprung forth in the coming of your truth.
I am shrouded.
I am shrouded in the sunrise of your essence; lightning struck down as answer; forgiveness transpired as ending, love reopened again, as blossom to the wind.
I am shrouded.
As blossom to the wind.
I am shrouded.
Belly of a Star 