Angel Friend
He is an Angel Friend.
Old, Wise, and Designed to have a huge heart


A hard working soul that never quits or did such weaken to bend.
Upon his birth..
Designed for brilliance - the bigger, brighter, and more
significant  of life purposes..

A legacy forged
At his birth
An energy made itself A great and bright start
Elderly ages equals wisdom and a fatherly care
Energy in a heart forged from gold - such strength shared and Naturally    grown
Such vines to sprout and bond
Connections created and they never detach
Away from the one's who have shared such energies, in return.
A beautiful artistic creation
Created through heart's truer matches..
Selfless gifts
Formed from the kindred spirits - like the silk worm's
Carefully generated stitches of silk
From their gratefulness and directed sharing of portions of their life's force

These fibers are  woven into  unmeasurable
Dime Worthy estimated or appraised "trinkets"
of breathtaking Tapestry Blankets or  "clothe windows.."
Joined forever as one, from one starting love's warmth to another,
train on "crazy rails in need of redirection.."
Such souls see and hand over irreplaceable rider tickets

Clothe pieces of spirits joined as one - as  tapestries .
Quilted  generations bonded by their loving and sharing connections in Golden Spirited   worth .
Heirlooms handed down between life's generations
New births of fresh spirits
Climbing the ladders of time
as cherished timeless gifts
Given to those whom he cares for
Bonded to even those outside a "family" pool
until the very last breath.
Spending not a dime.
He shall toil until his spirit leaves the Earth
Then such energies stay with those whom he cared for
All timeless and unmeasurable ticks of the clock
or sands of the hourglass
Light shines upon the extension of the cared one's family births

Therefor , he has always been earning a defined role
"The eternal force of caring.."
"The warrior's toll."
In edition to the medals of honor
Golden Wearable awards, given unto him, by the Creator.
Titled  as the "Creator's Golden Heart" and "Love's earned Crown."

As written in the Latin Life's Wisdom Scrolls" as:

per "Creator aurei cordis" et "coronam meruit amor est scriptor

Is it so that life chants melodies of death while death hums lullabies of life—
Tributes of the kindred, of devotion, of love.
Sweetest of longing, of belonging to be one; life sends death gifts; death returns the favour.
Wouldn’t it be so? Life gives birth to a souvenir; it evolves; it grows; it transforms. At the very end of the journey however it started, ended and all the parts in-between—the gift is received.
It is treasured as one of a kind, kindred, as one of life as one of death, kindred.
Wouldn’t it be so? Death partakes in it, value it beyond means to which we could fathom that the only thing death could send back is the essence; the soul; the spirit of what life gave.
It is treasured as one of a kind, kindred, as one of death as one of life, kindred.
Kindred.

The centre of me aches.

My circle is full,
There's no space for you
But yet you push
Encroaching on my depths.
                                                                  Tangible.
                              Languishing.
The need for warm drinks on chilly nights.
The arm on a shoulder after a weep.
The ache from a belly laugh so hard you cried.
                              A space I didn’t know needed filling.

I’ve lost you before I had you.
You’re not mine to keep.

The centre of me aches.

My circle is full,
And yet you’re there,
pushing.

I’m watching you from the top, as I’m
Sitting down on the floor, where I
Did most of my talks, in the
Past turbulent months, I think

From the way you stretch, and the
Funny way you flinch, to the
Way you act after meeting
New friends – they call it creeping

I’m immortalizing you, as I’m
Writing all about you, while I
Sit way across the room, but I
Can’t help but look, though rue

Oh, all our idiosyncrasies, though I
let mine fuel my eloquence, though I
Don’t know you super well, but I
Think that you might be the same
As me like the
caterpillars in my garden, who are
urging to thrive and bloom

I write about you, till the
Evening sun has to cut through, and I
Can’t catch a clue, I can’t see anymore
As the
Sun dies to let the
Moon breathe
In the night

Here I am
Looking at you watching me
As I see the world
Through your words
And I taste your truth
While we speak of youth,
Sitting on the pavement
Staring at the sun,
As if no one ever said
It wasn't safe.
Pondering the things we've done
Mistakes we've
Sown and grown
Into a lesson,
Talking of gods and queens
Our hopes and dreams.
I spilled my soul
Onto the concrete
As you stared in wonder
While I tapped my feet
To the beat of your heart.

I imagine her night –
her winter, her dark – better
defined your light,
the same way black velvet
offers a showy diamond.

A diamond,
your diamond,
full of beans,
along with mine,
full of shrieks,

seeds we’ve germinated.
Yours is tall and yellow;
mine blue and pensive.
Kindred, we
dream a garden for them.

Strong in her confidence,
and confident in her strength,
she graces the world with **** wisdom.
The glow in her eyes matches the
simple beauty of a sunrise.
The art from her mouth
and the wisdom from her fingertips
educates my body and satisfies my mind.
We are an ******, philosophical collision,
as the world spins around us, blurry yet clear;
and the sacredness of the unknown shatters.
We are left breathing in beautiful, familiar air,
and with the touch of a kindred soul.