There is the ancient story of a shepherd boy
whose king outfitted him with armor
to ready him for the challenges of the day
and the boy could not walk
so he threw off the armor
picked up his sling
and tended his father’s flock
with peace and joy freely erupting in song.

My armor is not wealth or wit
I cannot make myself fit
into the current conventions and hype
trying to conform to the normal type
stops up the energies that yearn to flow
freely and gleefully and urge me to go
to the dawn, darkness, clouds and sun
to wrap myself in words that run
like sparkling streams
and windswept dreams.

Poetry is my armor for each day
where worries and problem allay
where I search my feelings and mind
for the word elixir loosening knots that bind.
This armor does not weigh me down
but frees me to my triggering town
where I find and create the poet me
and the landscape of my soul’s poetry.

I'm the river
in which you have found yourself
I will overbear you with my love
There it is!
blooming in my chest
a soft lotus springing from underneath all this melancholy
overflowing
radiating
as I give away pieces of myself I'll never regret
I've waited on the right person
to take all my heart
I'm filled
with content
-I'm here to show you that you're lovable

’Twas noontide of summer,
  And midtime of night,
And stars, in their orbits,
  Shone pale, through the light
Of the brighter, cold moon.
  ’Mid planets her slaves,
Herself in the Heavens,
  Her beam on the waves.

  I gazed awhile
  On her cold smile;
Too cold—too cold for me—
  There passed, as a shroud,
  A fleecy cloud,
And I turned away to thee,
  Proud Evening Star,
  In thy glory afar
And dearer thy beam shall be;
  For joy to my heart
  Is the proud part
Thou bearest in Heaven at night,
  And more I admire
  Thy distant fire,
Than that colder, lowly light.

I crave the sun.
I crave the feeling of the heat wrapping my skin in tranquillity
and beams bringing braveness to my being.

So when the clouds crawl across, I wait.
I wait for its smile to creep out from behind the obstruction.

Patience is not my forte
but I wait
because the sun gives me what many cannot.

A warmth that asks for nothing in return.