Love was grand
Then went bad
Love was happy
Then turned sad
Love was worship
Churned to scorn
Love was life
Burnt and mourned

Love is worth
All it tolls
All the warts
And all it's moles
I'll do it again
If only I could
With all the bad
And all the good

I have always had
The compelling urge to leave
Where I feel welcome

You to whom, I
am lost, the remaining pain
will fetch the grace―
poise and dignity of
ending.

The future lies in―
the halo of the hill, where
the blood was spilled last night.

A black spot on the sun was
enlarging. I spell your name
in a bird song, that croons
tirelessly in timeless dawn.

The moon drenched lake
wails for the boat not to come.

There is a kinetic  c e l e b r a t i o n
throughout the entire universe--
both known and unknown;
  each molecule a universe to itself-

a world interconnected;
of sub-atomic celebrators
filling all time and space
perpetually valuing value itself

Value--
who, at its prime core
is in itself
the self-celebration
of hope/value= Love- (tagline) #healing

    and it is everywhere.
                  Yet, we.. are unaware.

Loving words
  (all that is real)
align with the celebration-
   of the kinetic-heal

and they pick up the magic
(the receivable rendition)
allowed into the receiver
through the act of volition

and suddenly we become aware.

••••


I am  melting  into   you--

and in the blend   of us
I am finding   the
c l a r i fi c ation      of me--  a
process  until today

I never believed in.

Once rolling alone
I am finding
the word  h o m e
in everything  
    that     you do

    e v er y- t h i n g.
          
                              -by paulSN

“I changed” you said
(but you didn’t change with me),
“You wouldn’t change” I said thats why we can no longer be
In this marriage  we Said “till death do us apart”
not a real death
just the death of the love in our hearts.

Was it serendipity when we met
And left
Were friendship carved in stones



Those epistles speaks of fondness
While you were in a different shore
Two continents facing each other
like two crescent moon.
The unforgetable exchanges
of  memoirs in foreign land
Where you go deep

in the physical jungle
And me in the corporate jungle


Is it also a matter of choice
And of voice to
speak our truths and
speak what our hearts content


In the stillness of silence
Our hearts are yearning
Our eyes speaks deep love's longing

But how did you allow free fall also
to rule what should have been
between us?


Was it also a matter of choice

I carry this pit
With me everyday

Sometimes it's in my
Stomach
My back
My neck
The bottoms of
My feet
The back of my
Mind

It never goes
Away
It just moves

It seems to grow
Barbs when my
Thoughts shift
To it
As they usually
Do seemingly
Out of nowhere

Sometimes early
In the morning
Or late at night
Depending on how
You look at things
I can feel the pit
In mid transit

Looking for the
Discarded trash and
Snapped twigs of
A new nest
A new perch to
Take up residence

There is no point
To the pit
It is absurd
Because it exists
It is the
Materialization
Of all the

Rejected submissions
Sideways glances
Passing snickers
Passive aggressive emails
Shelves of unread books
Dust bunnies in the corner
Creaking of floor boards
Board meetings

Clenching of teeth behind
Closed lips

The fading din of a
Conversation as you
Enter the room

Obelisks of junk mail
That choke the
Arteries of the earth

Lies that canoe through
Your teeth into
The sea of
Pointless small talk

Time

A peach rotting
In a ceramic bowl
In a watercolor kitchen
Until the only thing left
Is the pit