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Let me show you how worthy you are
how beautiful you are
and why it’s worth protecting  every flower until it dries and dies
instead of thinking “ it will die anyway so what is the point”
the point is the process, the growth not the end
we are not about ends but the mysterious in between
My wish is to be regarded as human. My gift is to be human.
My best friend’s girlfriends name is Kat. We talked about jazz, Palmdale and drummer, writers, poetry, therapy and love– outlives transformed by it. The sun rose where I was and the sun was setting where he was. It said it was so beautiful and he started to cry and I started to cry. We said “I love you” and ended our call.
Once upon a time there was a mirror and
I spoke to it the cursed words
“Mirror mirror on the wall”
and it spoke back to me “ yes”
And I asked it “what is the fairest end to this all”
and it responded “nor I nor mother time know, we appeared just like you”

(The mirror grew silent and then recited to me “earthling, earthing on the other side what’s is like to be alive” and I awoke)
I could not write about the people I lost during a short writing class exerciae. My sentences circled
swirled inward on the page
the way my departed and my beloved
swirl within me the sacred spiral
my endless nature trying to map itself out on a thin piece of paper
When it comes ravaging
cutting your skin with glass
let the shards that fly in the same manner as a sandstorm expose the bones
for once and for stop hiding
all the brilliant shimmer that comes being being cut so deeply, the beauty white bone reflecting the light
I am grateful to have lives this long. Every year is miraculous to me and every year is a challenges to me. I want to give; I want to pour myself out.

Our experience allows to be more compassionate and better understand others. The terrible things can be so life giving. Not the life you had before a new life is you are willing to embrace change and not resist
3 ways to say this earth is really beautiful

I want to cusp your soil in my hands
I fancy the touch of your moss
Are you earth because my eyes see “art” in you
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