Oh the omnipresent soul
like a terracotta sponge
absorbing our resolve
now and forever after.

the fire
for me
in your heart
died quietly

tell me,
love

where did it go?
and
why
don’t you know?

I feel lonesome hands approaching mine
to walk me through the desert.
I tense my arms against the open night sky
which cannot be pushed away.

I want you to love my grey skies,
my pensivity that rolls across mountain ranges -
the same to me as sunshine igniting streams.
Just a different lens
through which my creature plays with light.
She is elemental
and sloughs skin off the earth like lava flowing
into the ocean to close its eyes.
I'll eat my own tail
to discover what I already know.

There are different reasons why you write.
You write because...
...you're happy?
you're sad?
you're delighted?
you're mourning?
keeping a secret?
But whichever reason you have,
you still write what's inside.
What other people can't see,
can't decipher beneath the words you speak,
can't understand the emotions flowing
through the sentences you can't speak out loud.
You write, pouring the feelings you can't let out,
you write. using the words you once thought can't explain what you feel.
You write, thinking that someone out there can finally discern what you're hiding inside.

We're afraid to live.
We're afraid to die.
We're afraid to try.
We're afraid of what happens if we don't try.
We're afraid to love.
We're afraid to commit.
We're afraid people think we're full of ****.
We're afraid of the truth.
We're afraid to lie.
We're afraid people will think we're weak if they see us cry.
We're afraid to feel.
We're afraid of fear.
But knowledge is power.
So now that you know what you fear,
what are you going to do about it right now? Right here?