Our shelter was the blue sky
till we grew a tree
It’s bough became our place away
a home for you and me
So good, we grew an orchard
we dug and planted seeds
In turmoil, tears watered roots
as we cut and grew more trees
Till our fields could not be numbered
in grief we glory in golden leaves
whilst greed sprouted envy
like **** we were deceived
Each planting left us wanting
a forest, thick, large and high
forgetting the place we first belonged
beneath black branches that hid the sky

Dear love,

I know it's too much to ask
But please bear with my constant insecurities
My constant what ifs
I will never feel 'enough'
But I'll try my best
I'd get competitive with your past
Forgive me
If I always feel I lose
To the ones you've loved before
For they are everything I'm not
Thank you

on some days water would fall down
in heavy buckets; ravaging the hungry earth
stricken— a wave of drought.
the tiny specks of life swimming along
the expanse of the universe would
scatter to have a taste of the heavens
and quench the need of being human.
some would build infrastructures
as great as  lunar craters
to catch every miniscule drop
that comes from the sky,
only to keep it in their possession,
never to see another ray of light.
those who have an abundance
seem to have a hard time giving—
hands formed into fists uncaring.
what can be gripped, cannot be taken away.
in this water, there will be power.

what do the others do then?

in a morbid sense of camaraderie,
those who have their hands open, cupped,
palms facing the heavens,
can funnel grace into the palms
of another.

maybe this is where I will believe,
despite the flashes of greed and envy,
the kingdom of a god
will always belong to the poor.

if you borrow the eyes
of those who envy,
you'll be surprised to see how much beauty
they can see— in every little thing.