Maybe that's what I was—a wildfire.
You, so sweetly, abandoned the clouds and burst all over me,
but I, as what I should, encircled you with my flames.

You told me to stop burning things dearest to you,
but I bleed, oh, so gently! oh, so passionately!
and left them all to ashes.

Maybe that's what you were—a rainfall.
Always in-between of what I desire
and your battle cry for my last blow.

We didn't say we were a hurricane.
This is my trail, that is yours.
We go together, but we leave our separate ways.

I flickered, I rose, I got out of control.
What else were you there for
if not to watch me swallow the place so fervently
before you can downpour your proudest good bye?

A walk through the misty wood.
The trail latent with track of hooves,
which tell me the ways the forest moves,
into the endless green hood.

I would step to dance upon these tracks,
but the sound is what holds me back.
I shouldn't disturb the animals around,
or step on the forests leafy gown.

The powerful sounds of the forest,
not meant for a tape to be repeated
because the pure sound is sweet to my ear,
and to my heart, it will always be near.

love is the ups and downs
of natural geography,
the only two feelings
when standing in the shadow of a mountain:  

1. your iris is the northern lights to me;
​
2. my freckles are grains of sand to you.

let's be realistic,
dear.

I guess we were never
in the same place
after all.

We were misfits
the neglected *******
of a backwards world
that rejected us
not because we were sick
demented or dangerous
but because we didn't prescribe
to a preconceived notion
of what a functioning citizen was.

Not rotten enough to spoil
behind the bars of a prison
just competent enough
to work menial jobs
and drown our sorrows
at the corner pub.

We swallowed this hard truth
the same way we drank our shots
with no chaser
and at times it burnt
maybe even made us tear up
but we never let it beat us
(too strong for that)

We were beautiful
resilient beasts
that could carry the weight
of the world upon our shoulders
and it was heavy
but we would tell ourselves
"doesn't every world need an atlas?"
so we went on holding up the sky
when no one asked it of us.

They have
                      Taken my
                      Lord,
                      Where has
                      He been
                      Taken?
                      The tomb
                      Is empty,
                     Now we
                     Are quite
                     Shaken
He lives! He is risen! Glory to God in the highest! Blessed is he who comes in the name of The Lord! Redemption is here for us all. He died so we may live!
                     For our
                     Lord was
                     Not stolen
                     But risen
                     From his
                     Mortal
                     Grave
                     He has
                    Arrived to
                    The place
                    We to will
                    One day call
                    Our home,
                    The place
                    Where our
                    Heavenly
                    Father dwells.
                    Prepare, one
                   And all! He
                   Waits for
                   Us to come
                   To be with
                   Him too