The flower needs rest,
so winter tucks it beneath the earth,
letting it sleep until spring.

The sun needs rest,
so the clouds and rain embrace it,
shielding its warmth for another day.

What draws me in, to this?

Is it love, or something twisted—
Said a mother to her daughter
It's so hard to tell the difference

                            But please;
                                     I need to know the difference

"
I didn't understand then
And I won't pretend to know much more now;
All I can do is try to not be angry
                          
                            And at that, I'll fail.
                                                           ­        But I'll learn

"
I used to believe in the world, with an innocent infatuation for its goodness

Now I believe, with a knowing compassion for its faults

...

I think things that are perfect are easy to love;

         We meet God in our love for that which is not

Writing for me
is not an art but
a discipline that
requires time
and the right
frame of mind,
some coffee,
and a clear desk
(okay, I’m a little
OCD).

A sip, a prayer,
a good fountain pen
and the juices
begin to flow.
Then the cat jumps
in my lap just as I
get in a groove
and progress ceases
as the purrs set in.

She’s ambivalent,
even indolent
until the gods
or vagaries
that rule my
creative processes
come together
then she jumps
in my lap and
is my anti-muse.

She always times
it just right
so that a few
minutes with her
and the purrs
get me off track
for an hour
or more.

Here she comes
now
and
there
goes
my
writing
for another day.

i want to runaway
to live on my own
to see on my own
the way to live,
the way to breathe
to love like a human
and not like a rock
to see the places
I've always wanted to see
to go to school
it would be such a breeze
switch my life around
and sit on the ground
work like a person
oh,to runaway

And then I sit on the branch of a tree, and things don't seem so bad.

Is not easy,
You have to give in to your will.
41/3/2025

I miss who I used to think I was
When I loved myself
In ignorant bliss
Of my flaws, and the mistakes I had yet to make.

As I've grown older, I've come to know myself better
And I can't say if I've liked the change.
But I'm stuck here with me, for better or for worse
So we will bear the growing pains

From old me, to new me
Pretending to shift while staying the same
Fooling myself with the same name
Unable to decipher these blaming games

Who or what is responsible for how I turned out
I don't know
But I know I'm not who I thought I'd be, at twenty-three
At least I still have hope that time will make up the difference.

The worst part was thinking I saw you,
A you with depth,
A depth that matched mine,
But you just turned out to be
like everyone else.