My New York Poem

Space is breath. It is deep, small, long and in spurts. 

It's called life. 

Space is breath not just a moment to your self.

It's when you admit that the scars of your past shape who you become but do not define you.

Time always controls us, why don't we control time, why don't we actually just breathe, or actually just live? 

Open, create and allow permission. 

We all have a right to think but overdoing it is the easiest thing anyone can do.

Crammed in between a busy schedule, how often do we give ourselves space?

Karma or you could say the law of attraction is what determines what you receive in this world.

Measure your space - break your patterns, use your mistakes to grow and take your own advice. 

Knowledge is power, come out of your shell and accept your fears.

It's easier to think about yesterday, worry about tomorrow then to be present now. 

Sucked into my dream, I allow myself permission to breath.

Stuck on the F train, I create my space.

Living on time, I open my mind.

Join me………in my New York state of mind.