The ravens of dawn circle a slumbered cavern,  
A portal into the eyes of my past,  
While the sweet echo of your laughter,  
Thrice calls my heart to awaken.

Lead me, this transformative space so bright  
Where visions unfold in the silhouette of wisdom.  
Who guides me on this day of thresholds crossed,  
Bridged to an age of new realms?  
The Morrigan dances, infusing the moment,  
Her song whispers in the quiet of my thoughts.  
Have we just met, or have our souls always known  
Each other, across the tapestry of lives,  
Now woven together,  
Igniting the sweet breath of potential flames?  
I have awakened.

I step through this open doorway,  
The threshold stretches long; I am drawn to it!  
With open arms, I walk into the light,  
Wisdom shines bright, searching, yearning;  
You have swept me into a dance of expanding skies,  
Constellations twinkling, all pulling, all pushing.

Life opens through uncharted paths.  
I’ve been blinded by the familiar,  
Yet discover you—a wondrous surprise;  
A kaleidoscope of extravagant moments,  
Heartfelt laughter, and love at play.

Play?

Gliding along like a dream,  
Cocooned in the warmth of new wonders.  
This creativity blooms in our shared laughter,  
Telling me what to feel, what to explore.

Why can we not be taught how to love without fear?  
“Grow up, would you.”  

I find my kaleidoscope glasses,  
Walking through a portal with an extended threshold,  
So long, so deep.  
A light on the other side—  
Bright beyond imagination!  
A silhouette of you waiting,  
Holding your glasses too...

Filled with fire and splashing joy,  
Contained in the same vessel.

Is it possible?

We are all made of atoms,  
Circling the force that binds our existence,  
Finding our way to one another.

I'm sitting outside.  
The air smells like old dreams
like wet soil and cracked pavement after a storm,  
like rustling leaves that once sounded  
like lullabies  
before I even knew what pain was.

It smells like the quiet corners of childhood  
I used to hide in,  
where sunlight poured through tree branches  
like stained glass,  
and the world  
just for a moment
felt safe.

It smells like the day I first realized  
I didn’t need to be anything  
to be loved.  
Not smart,  
not strong,  
not impressive.  
Just… here.

Back then, I belonged to the wind,  
to the soft hum of bees in the distance,  
to the ants weaving stories through grass blades.  
I didn’t have to earn my place.  
No one was counting.  
I was alive
and that was the miracle.

Now I understand why it felt like home.  
Nature doesn’t ask for reasons.  
It doesn’t assign value.  
It just is
and in its presence,  
so was I.

I think happiness lives there,  
in the child I buried under performance.  
The one who laughed  
just because the clouds were shaped like animals,  
who believed puddles could be oceans,  
who never asked  
“Am I enough?”
because enoughness had not yet been sold.

That child still lives in me,  
beneath the weight of doing and proving,  
beneath all the names I gave myself  
just to be loved.

Maybe the secret is to find him again
to sit in stillness,  
and let the world fall away  
until all that’s left  
is the sound of leaves,  
the smell of sky,  
and the feeling  
of being alive without permission.

He’s still there,  
quiet,  
waiting,  
barefoot in the grass.

And the wind hasn’t forgotten him.