I am so bored with my own writing at this point.

On my way to a far off village
I met a young woman,
With scars in her eyes and hands so old
Holding a precious clay vase.
She lived in a far away land of
Desert-like knowledge, and
Within that land were seven stories
Of three weeping children,
Each singing for each other's love
And the eternal peace of their mother.

Sometimes you can
be so wrapped up
in writing things down in
a hurriedly explanation
that you forget
to breathe within the moment.

It's alright to pause.

It's okay to forget your pencil
and listen to the stars when
they ask you to slow down.

So, I paused.
And I heard wonderful things.

I discovered the sky is beautiful tonight.
More so that I could ever tell you through words.

So, please...  breathe.

If I fall, will you catch and hold me tightly?
If I fall with nowhere to land and cannot spread my wings, can you take a moment to soften the world's edges and make space for me in your arms?

When you fall, I will hold you tightly with nothing but love.
When you fall, I will be there waiting to give you my hand and make space for you to heal when there is hardly any left.

When we stumble together, years from now, tracing the heartbeats and tracks of others so far ahead of us, I will guide you through the oceans and hold your heart closely to my own so you may never feel alone.
I hope you would do the same.

Little girl picks up the chalk,
Writes her heart,
Draws her mind,
Cries it all away
Before they can see.